Caged In
by Frigonfic
Summary: Thrown into the arena again, but this time her task is not survival, but protection. Caged in and looking for a way out; Panem's future hangs on balance as timing is now more important than anything. Third installment to 'The Girl Who Set the Spark'.
1. Breathe Again

Hey there! So this is the third sub-story of this series! If you haven't read the first two, they are called 'The Girl Who Set the Spark' and 'Panem's Angel'. If you have, then thank you so much for sticking by for so long!

This whole sub-story is set during 'Catching Fire', so I highly advise you to read that first. Also, since this sub-story is following the plot line of another book, I apologize in advance if any information is different or off. I don't check every single detail, and I am quite terrible with writing alongside books.

And yes, you may notice in this sub-story that some sections are different from the book. I did change the story in some major parts to accommodate Anxol's story. Don't worry, nothing is too drastically changed. Ish.

So I'm done rambling now, I think. Hopefully you guys enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

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Everything is like déjà-vu.

I'm tying Donnie's dark blonde hair in a bun again, just like how I did six years ago, the day I was Reaped.

I help her into her pale-blue dress, similar to the one she wore when she was five. I myself slip into a white flowing dress, almost identical to the one I wore when I was Reaped. Funny how these things work out.

Once again, I hold Donnie's hand as we walk to the Town Square. I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

It's been so long since I've used this phrase. After five years, I learned how to breathe on my own, in any situation. After being in the Hunger Games, everything seemed to pale in comparison.

I could breathe on my own.

But today, I seemed to have forgotten again.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

I take one step in front of the other, remembering oh-so-clearly what it was like to be Reaped for the first time.

That time, I didn't know I was Reaped.

This time, I know I will be Reaped. There is only one slip in the bowl. One slip that has my name, and no other. The odds are not in my favor; they never really were.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

So many things have changed since I was Reaped. In particular, I have changed.

Anxol into Angel. Angel into Anxol again.

We reach the Town Square. I stare at Donnie one last time, trying to seal her look into my mind.

She looks at me, panic in her eyes. I try to reassure her silently, try not to cry.

I exhale slowly. I unlace her fingers from mine and let go of her hand, even though it's killing me on the inside, to let go of my little sister to go die.

I push her gently to the twelve-year-old girl's pen. She reluctantly leaves, never taking her eyes away from me.

I walk to the victor's pen. There is so little of us, just me and Vinster. We already know we will be going, that we will be sacrificing ourselves. There is no denying it, no pretending that we will not be called to play a game we had thought we had escaped.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

I see Marliese walk up the stage. I haven't talked to Marliese much – she's busy on Capitol duties, and I – well –

But she smiles at me. I remember her strange mother-like friendliness towards me, and I am glad for the small sign of support.

I smile back.

She picks the male victor first. Through the loud thumping of my chest, I make out Vinster's name. He stands up and walks woodenly to the stage, though as he passes, I can see a sad resignation in his dark brown eyes.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

"And this year's female tribute is…" Marliese hesitates, and reads the paper. "… Anxol Enkeli!"

My breath is stuck in my chest. I saw it coming, I knew it was coming, this was inevitable, this was supposed to happen. But it doesn't stop the shock, and it doesn't stop the horror or fear. They are all too present as I stand after my name is called.

_Breathe in, breathe out._

I step out of my place in the victor's pen. I walk to the stage and it's the confident, jaunty walk that I use in the Capitol. I won't let the Capitol see me with my head down. I am a victor. I am proud. I have survived their Games once, and I will survive again. Hopefully.

I am halfway there when a little voice stops me in my tracks.

"Wait!" I hear Donnie's little voice, and I see her little figure run towards me.

Everybody's eyes are on her as she runs towards me and jumps into my arms, clinging to my neck.

I lift her up, her legs not even touching the ground.

I close my eyes and hug her tightly, and she hugs me back fiercely.

"Thank you." She whispers into my ear.

I set her down unwillingly, and the Peacekeepers grab her. I glare at them, and they loosen her grip.

She stares at me, tears trickling down her face as they lead her away.

I walk up to the stage.

Marliese takes my hand and squeezes it reassuringly before raising it up into the air.

"District 5's tributes for this year's Third Quarter Quell!" She announces.

I am a victor. I will go into the arena again.

I may die. I will not go down without a fight.

But it won't be the fight the Capitol expects.

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Thanks for reading!

Yes, I know, it's a short chapter. So sorry about that! I promise that they will increase in length as the story progresses.

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Feel free to leave it as a review! If you have any suggestions or opinions for the upcoming chapters, you may also leave it as a review and I will make sure to keep into consideration your ideas!

Next chapter up tomorrow!


	2. Countdown

Hey there!

Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading.

Well, not to delay you any longer! Here is the next chapter and I hope you all enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

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****

The goodbyes are short.

They only give us three minutes, though with some persuasion, they allow Donnie and I five minutes alone.

I cradle her like she's just a baby, and she doesn't move. She only whispers softly, 'come back home' over and over again; a mantra she believes if she says enough times, it'll come true. I wish things were that easy. I wish I could come back home to Donnie and grow old with her. But I can't. I promise Haymitch, and now I have a different set of priorities that don't have protecting Donnie at the top of the list.

"I love you, Donnie." I whisper, smiling though it's forced through my tears. "I love you so much. We all do. Remember that, okay Donnie?"  
Donnie nods, chin trembling. "I love you too, Annie."

"You'll be so amazing when you grow up, my little Belladonna. You'll be a genius that changes Panem for the better." I choke out, barely able to contain the tears any longer. They come running down my face like a waterfall, and I am unable to stop them. Unable to keep my sister safe. Unable to protect her. I feel helpless, hopeless, and weak. I can't shield her anymore. What will my little sister become when she sees all the cruelty in this world?

Donnie stares at me with her pale blue eyes that are identical to my late father's; sad and swimming with tears. Her dark blonde hair is still neat and prim in the tight bun, and her dress is perfectly ironed and straight. I can't help but to marvel at how much my baby sister has grown over the past year. How she has grown from the little five year old girl who did not understand why I was leaving to this beautiful, intelligent young woman who understands everything.

"Oh, Annie." She smiles a watery smile. "I can't change Panem for the better if you already beat me to it."

I'm temporarily confused, because I don't understand what she means, and I want to ask her to explain - but the Peacekeepers come in and tell us that it's been long past five minutes. Their faces are hard and unreadable, and I wonder if they understand what it's like for the two of us. What it's like to say goodbye for the last time. They don't; that's why they're so heartless. That's why they pry the last person I call family away from me.

Donnie throws her skinny arms around me and buries her face in my white Reaping dress, her tears making small puddles in the worn fabric. The Peacekeepers try to pry her off, but she has a viselike grip on me, and I'm not ready to let her go. I cling onto her and she clings onto me.

But they yank Donnie off of me, and they pull off a part of my heart when they do. Donnie's hand is outstretched as they pull her away, and I hold on to it. The last part of her that I can hold on to, the last time I can touch her again.

"Anxol!" She cries out desperately, frantic. "Annie!"

Her eyes are wild and red, her body thrashing around as she tries giving me one last thing. One last thing to hold on to.

The Peacekeepers roughly break our grasp and pull Donnie away, slamming the door shut behind them.

I hold on to what Donnie has given me, what she had slipped into my palm as I held onto her hand.

It takes me a few minutes to realize what it is; my tears are blurring my vision and I can barely think straight, let alone try and distinguish what was in front of me.

When the tears clear slightly, I can make out what the object it - and I burst out in tears again. I crumple to the ground, clutching onto it tightly.

It was my parents. And then it was Enkol's. I thought I had sold it when Enkol had died, sold it for money to support Donnie and I when nobody else would. Donnie must've had it all this time, a hidden memento of the family she could not remember.

The pocket watch is pushing into my palm, its intricate design surprisingly painful and sharp. A tarnished bronze colored, the detailed designing weaving in and out throughout the watch. Its chain was old and rusted, looking like it was going to fall apart at any second.

Though aged and decaying, the small pocket watch still ticks softly, like the steady heartbeat of my parents and twin. Like a daunting countdown that counts the time left we have before my whole family is killed.

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Thanks for reading!

AH, I know, I know, I know. Supremely short chapter. I'M SORRY!

This really shouldn't even be counted as a chapter. Like, seriously. I am really, really, really sorry. The next chapter will most definitely be longer. I'll make it up for you guys somewhere down the road. I promise!

Any comments? Questions? Feedback? Leave it as a review! Any suggestions? Ideas? Opinions? Also feel free to leave it as a review!

Thanks for reading once again, and the next chapter will be posted up tomorrow!


	3. Allies

Hey there! Thanks reading clicking & hopefully reading!

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Almost too soon, I am back at the Capitol.

I smile and wave at the cameras as the train passes by the Capitol. Everyone cheers loudly as I pass, and I blow kisses to the crow even though I really just wanted to stab each and every single one of them.

I watched the Reapings on the train – Finnick and Johanna were Reaped, both of them walking confidently to the stage. Katniss was Reaped and Peeta volunteered for Haymitch.

I felt like I was going to explode. I tried sleeping on the train, but the bed was cold and hard without Finnick beside me; arm slung lazily over my waist, soft breath tickling the hairs on the back of my neck.

I was dragged, once again, by my prep team, and was dunked and painted and poked and squeezed and whatever they normally do to me. I am reminded that getting dressed up is one whole section of torture in participating in the Games. I felt like I was fifteen again, fearful and timid.

I tried smiling, but I couldn't. How can I? Everything about this is wrong, wrong, wrong. We were granted immunity. They said they wouldn't hurt us anymore. This is all unfair.

It was hours until I walked to the Remake Centre, where all the tributes – victors – would go while they waited for the Capitol to announce them.

As soon as the doors opened, I was greeted by the sight of most of the tributes, waiting around, talking to each other.

I walked into the room, and saw Finnick already talking to Katniss, eating a sugar cube.

I'm not jealous. I swear.

The only thing that I w_ould _be jealous about – if I _was _jealous, which I'm not – is that Finnick gets a sugar cube while I don't.

"Enkeli!" A loud voice makes me turn. It's Johanna, wearing a ridiculous tree ensemble. We all wore things that represented our Districts – mine was practically see-through wires with faint yellow lights in them in a form of underwear. Fesiena was getting more 'creative'. She calls it 'Capitol couture'. Normal people call it underwear. I called it selling myself for the last time.

I could be Finnick, I thought wryly, looking at him. He was wearing nothing but knotted ropes slung loosely across his hips, displaying his finely tanned skin and muscles.

He catches me looking at him and gives me a saucy wink. I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Johanna, who was on the other side of the room.

"Allies?" Johanna bellows across the room, making everybody stop and stare at her.

"I'm forming a no-Careers-especially-male-douchebags-from-District-4 alliance!" She booms. Finnick laughs loudly, and a smile creeps onto my face.

"I'm in!" I hollered back, unable to hold back my smile.

Everybody's staring at us, and all I can do is giggle to myself. How silly we must seem to them, young inexperienced victors who practically just came out of the Games. They don't know that we've seen more than them, done more.

"Is she just joking?" Peeta appears next to me, amusement in his blue eyes. He's wearing a beautiful black ensemble with glowing flames on it, dancing colors changing with every second.

"I have no idea." I grin, unable to pry my eyes away from his costume. His designer, Cinna, is most indeed a genius.

"Would you join if she wasn't?" Peeta asks, smiling.

"I probably would." I smile back. "Jo and Finn are my friends here."

He's silent for a moment.

"How do you know Finnick isn't going to join the Careers?" He asks quietly, as if he didn't want to burst my bubble. I never really had high hopes to begin with.

"I don't." I answer cheerfully, though I want to break down and cry, cry endlessly about everything that is wrong about this world. But I don't. I'm at the Capitol now. I cannot show any of my true emotions. They won't see me crumble, broken. I won't let them.

It's quiet for another moment as the victors around us chatter, friendly towards each other. In a few short days, twenty three of us will be dead, perhaps killed at the hands of our own friends. I can only hope who will be the last one standing.

When my eyes flicker towards the hopeful twice-victor of this year's Games, I have to bite back a growl. Wearing the same mesmerizing costume as Peeta, and face only millimeters away from Finnick's; close enough for them to be kissing. I can clearly see that Finnick is the one leaning towards Katniss, and my hands instinctively curl up in a fist.

"It must be hard," Peeta comments, not seeing my stare and snapping me back to him, "to know you have to kill your friends."

He looks at me with his sorrowful blue eyes, so sincere. They're a beautiful pure blue; and though they are knowing, they are still pure. He has not seen the worst yet. He hasn't even heard about it. And for that, he is lucky. He is still, in some ways, safe from the Capitol.

"Yeah." I whisper softly. It was something I didn't want to think about, something I avoided thinking. I didn't want to imagine seeing Finnick or Johanna dead, or worse yet, being the ones killing them when there is only us and Katniss left. I can only pray that our deaths will be made in an agreement, and there will be no suffering and tears when it comes; that the last thing I will see is Finnick crying, cradling me, as I let him down and die.

No, I hope that the end will be peaceful. That we will decide when to die, and we will do so together. That his arms will encircle me and that his lips will be on mine.

That is how I want to die, and after all the Captiol has taken away from us, made us do, this is the least they can do for us.

We stand in a comfortable silence until Finnick waves me over to where the horses were. I can see him chuckling as one particularly feisty horse rears her head to gobble the sugar cube in Finnick's hand.

I smile at Peeta.

"I guess this is my cue to go." I grin, already starting to drift away. Finnick is like the sea's current, pulling me towards him, and I have no problems obliging.

"Yeah." He smiles and starts to walk to Katniss.

"Good luck." I call. Good luck for what, I have no idea. But we could all use a little luck now.

I walk over to Finnick. He grins at me, the lopsided grin that he saves for me. No other Capitol citizen, friend, or victor. Not even for Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire, the Mockingjay. For me and me alone.

He holds up a sugar cube.

"Want one?" He purrs, green eyes seductive and inviting.

I almost roll my eyes. He's playing Capitol Finnick again. Instead of yelling at him, I decided that two could play at that game.

"Do I _ever._" I pout, eyes wide and bright the way it is when I am at the Capitol. "Care to share?"

"You're going to have to earn it first." Finnick pops the sugar cube into his mouth, savoring the taste of sweet sugar in his mouth. "What do I get in return?"

"Well, Finnick," I smile seductively and whisper in his ear, "you _don't _get your ass whipped in the Hunger Games."

Finnick pretends to think about it. "Hmm. Tempting. But I was thinking of something different."

His eyes gleam with mischief, and before I can move out of the way, he presses his lips to mine. Soft, gentle, and comforting in this terrible situation.

I can taste the sugar on his lips.

He pulls away, only millimetres away from me. I can see every golden fleck in his eyes, his skin warm against mine. And even today, six years later, even though Finnick and I have been through so much together, my heart still beats madly in my chest like some adoring fan girl.

"You liked that, didn't you?" He smirks when he catches me staring.

"Not a chance." I smirk back, holding up a sugar cube that I conveniently swiped while Finnick was distracted.

I pop it in my mouth and start to walk away.

"Hey!" I hear him protest. "That was my last one!"  
I only smile, the taste of sugar still on my lips.

Smile, wave, wave.

That's what I do.

Smile, wave, wave.

I might need sponsors. The sponsors almost saved my life last time, when I had decided to fall off the mountain.

I could've still electrocuted the arena without wires or the double-bladed sword. It's just that they made the end result more e_ffective._

It's like a competition between me and Finnick – who can charm the most citizens. A contest; a challenge that I am more than happy to accept.

Our popularity has skyrocketed after all we've done for the past years, and it would be paying off today.

The Capitol is screaming. They are shouting, looking at the victors. Looking at us mighty fighters who will give them the biggest bloodshed of all time because we have all given them the bloodshed they have wanted once. We are their prized possessions, and they cannot wait to toss us into a cage where we will fight to the death

I smile at wave as if I didn't know what was running through every citizen's shallow, corrupted mind.

They are unaware of all the secrets I hold in my head.

To them, we are only pretty polished dolls that are under their every command.

But the secrets I carry can break them, ruin them. It won't be even a fraction of what they have done to me, but it will only be the start.

My smile brightens at the thought.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Slightly longer, yay! Well, I hope you all liked that chapter.

Don't forget, if you have any questions, comments, or feedback, feel free to leave it as a review!

Next chapter up tomorrow!


	4. Braids & Sweets

Hey there! Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

"You're a tease, did you know that?" Finnick smiles as I stand at his doorway later that night. It's not that late, but there is nothing to do besides sleep or sit and wait for your inevitable fate.

I am not used to sleeping on such a wide bed on my own. There's usually a Capitol man or Finnick beside me.

I like Finnick better.

My floor is too silent, too still. Everything is metal, everything is cold. Nothing but the sound of Vinster tossing and turning around, as sleepless as I was.

I give Finnick my best puppy dog eyes, making them as wide as possible.

"I see I'm influencing you." He opens his door wider and lets me in. His whole floor is warm and smells of the salty seawater of District 4. Finnick makes every place feel like home. Safe. And that's what I want most right now.

I smile and tiptoe, kissing him gently on the lips.

He smiles and kisses me back.

Finnick guides me through the large kitchen and luxurious sitting room, complete with a massive television identical to the one on my floor. I see Mags, sitting down on one of the couches and weaving a net. I can see a large pile of nets already next to her, and some hanging on the walls.

She smiles when she sees me, revealing a few missing teeth. She stops working and beckons me to come over to her with one crooked finger.

"Aw, Mags, not now." Finnick sighs playfully. I smile at Finnick and sit down next to Mags, who jabbers something to Finnick, making him sit down.

I could never understand what Mags was saying. Finnick is basically the only person who could possibly understand what Mags says, though on a few lucky occasions I manage to understand a few words.

Mags is always smiling and friendly towards me, and she is like a grandmother to Finnick. Sweet and homely, it is easy to forget that Mags did, once upon a time, kill tributes by catching them on hooks and hanging them up like her own gruesome doll collection.

Once I sit down next to Mags, her hands immediately fly to my head. Finnick lies down on the couch next to me, his head on my lap. Mags braids my hair with her deft, skilled fingers, weaving and entwining them together in a beautiful pattern. I was afraid the first time she did this; her hands reaching out to my skull. Finnick laughed and assured me that she was perfectly safe, and that she said she loved my hair.

I sit, still and patient as Mags hums cheerfully. Finnick closes his eyes, his head a halo of bronze on my lap. My fingers comb through his hair, and curled up, Finnick looks so vulnerable. Young. Not the beautiful man that the Capitol portrays him as, but the young fisherman who wishes for nothing but to return to his old life at sea.

Mags finishes, and fastens my hair together with a hook she made out of a pen laying around. I'm still not too sure how she manages to make a hook out of everything. She makes a triumphant sound, and I smile and turn around to her.

"Thank you, Mags." I smile gratefully, gingerly patting the beautiful strong braids around my head. Mags smiles and says something. Finnick laughs.

"She says that she'll redo the braids tomorrow morning after you're done sleeping with me." He chuckles, reaching out and touching the braids, smiling at Mags. Finnick gets off the couch and pecks Mags quickly on the cheek, and I give her a quick hug.

Finnick bounds off, and I follow him to the kitchen. It is early, not late enough for us to sleep. Or perhaps we were just natural night owls after all the nights at the Capitol.

"Hungry, Angelfish?" He grins, pulling out a lavishly decorated cupcake.

He takes a large gob of icing off and smears it onto my nose, too fast for me to dodge. I scrunch up my nose and try to reach it with my tongue.

Finnick laughs at my failed attempts, and while he is distracted, I quickly look around, grabbing some pastry off a cart.

When Finnick looks back at me, I smash the pastry into his mouth, sugary sweet icing and all. His eyes widen in adorable surprise, green eyes filled with shock.

"Oh, you did _not _just do that." His eyes are devious, already searching for more food lying around. "You are definitely going to regret that."

I stick out my tongue at him.

"Bring it on." I tease, hands feeling for the cart of pastries.

Seconds later, a full out food fight erupts.

By the time the two of us are finished, we are coated from head to toe with sugary sweets, juice, and crumbs. My hair has completely fallen out of Mags' neat braid, and Finnick's hair is dotted with crumbs and sticky with the juice inside the pie I threw at his head.

"You put whip cream in my eye." He whines like a four-year-old, playful.

"You dumped ice-cream down my shirt." I retort back wryly, though the smile on my face feels permanent. "I think we're pretty even."

"You have to kiss it better." Finnick bats his eyes innocently.

"I think _you _should be the one kissing me." I grin, staring at his hopeful face. "After all, you started all of this."

He laughs. "Don't tell me it wasn't fun."

I look back at the completely destroyed kitchen, dining table and cabinets completely laced with sugar and dessert crumbs. I let out a laugh myself, and Finnick's hand finds my own, despite the fact that they were sticky and covered in icing.

"Let's call it a tie." He smiles, eyes glinting as we walk to his room, leaving a trail of dirty, crumb-encrusted footprints.

"Deal." I grin, already on the tips of my toes, reaching out to him.

We kiss, sugar on our lips, frosting on our faces and sauce on our clothes. He runs a icing-caked hand through my sticky-juice hair, and I smile.

Nothing ever tasted sweeter.

We quickly take a shower before deciding to go to sleep, tired at last.

Finnick lifts me up and carries me to the bed, setting me down carefully.

I keep my arms around his neck and stare at him, all serious. It feels as if the shower erased all the fun, all the jokes. We remembered we were in the Caiptol, remembered what was going to take place in a few day's times.

He stares back at me, his green eyes illuminated by the moonlight.

"I promised that I would protect Katniss and Peeta." He says simply, kissing me softly on the nose.

"But I promise to protect you, too." He whispers in my ear, his breath making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"I promise…" I close my eyes, trying to think of something. Anything. Anything I could promise Finnick, my solid wall after all this time, before we died in the arena.

I laugh softly. "I don't know what to promise."  
"Promise me," Finnick caresses my cheek gently, "that for once, you'll think of yourself, too."  
"I promise." I whisper, forcing myself to fill out what Finnick asked of me.

He leans down and kisses me softly, as if sealing our promises together.

Finnick's POV

I spend the night with Anxol. I intend to spend the rest of them with her.

Her head is curled against my chest, and her every breath makes my heart beat faster.

We fall asleep together like that.

I awake first the next morning.

There's a knock on the door, and I open it quickly before it wakes Anxol up.

It's Haymitch and Peeta.

Peeta looks highly uncomfortable while Haymitch doesn't even look bothered.

"Busy night, Finnick?" He looks behind me. "Looks like you had Anxol as some company."

I grin. "You know how it is, Haymitch."  
"Put on some clothes, Finnick, and wake her up." Haymitch commands, pushing his way in. Peeta trails in, as if afraid of what was inside.

"Wake up, sunshine!" Haymitch throws open the curtains.

Anxol stirs slightly and groans.

"God, Haymitch, do you have to terrorize me in the morning, too?" She mumbles, hiding underneath the covers. "Why is it so bright?"

I pull on some pants and look for a shirt, grinning at Anxol.

"She's learning from Johanna." Haymitch comments gruffly, pulling the blankets away from her. "Wake up, we've got important matters to discuss!"

She mumbles something about sleep being important, but she crawls out of bed anyways. Her hair is a disarray of white-blonde strands sticking up everywhere, but her eyes are bright and shining.

"Morning, Peeta." She stretches lazily, showing off her flat, pale stomach. We all hear the bones cracking in her back, so loud I'm sure Mags in the next room can hear them too.

"Morning." Peeta replies back, clearly feeling very awkward. He shuffles his feet and stares everywhere but at me and Anxol.

"Is that your shirt she's wearing?" Haymitch says, staring at me, the complete opposite of Peeta. "Looks nice."

Anxol only scoffs and rolls her eyes. She pulls on her pants from yesterday night, but she keeps my shirt on. I walk over and comb her hair with my fingers, and she yowls like an angry cat.

In two minutes, we were seated in the kitchen, which was miraculously clean again. I almost forgot how it looked like underneath all the food and crumbs.

"The thing I want to discuss with you two is an alliance." Haymitch offers, not a question. A statement. He knows we will not refuse, and the both of us have no wish to.

"Lovely. Great. Sure." Anxol yawns daintily, her head leaning on my shoulder.

"Who's in it?" I ask.

"So far, just you two and Katniss and Peeta." Haymitch answers. "But I'll be asking Johanna later on today."

"Wait." Anxol suddenly starts, fully awake. "You and Katniss are okay with this?"

"Well…" Peeta says uneasily. "Katniss doesn't really know yet."

"We don't know who Katniss will pick for an alliance yet." Haymitch replies gruffly. "If she even picks anybody."

Anxol and I nod.

"So we decided to take the liberty of picking a few people ourselves." Haymitch adds. "Peeta picked the two of you."  
I see Anxol flash a grateful smile at Peeta and I feel myself doing the same.

Peeta smiles back.

"I picked Johanna." Haymitch says. "So are the two of you in?"

We both nod simultaneously. We shake hands with Peeta and Haymitch, making it official. Haymitch catches our eyes, reminding us of the rebellion. Though it was spoken, the three of us know that Beetee will be included in the alliance as well, even though the alliance was growing dangerously large.

We smile some more and then we leave the room to prepare for today's training. Peeta and Haymitch leave, whispering in hushed tones. Mags enters the room as soon as they leave, and I am reminded that I want Mags in the alliance too. It may be getting too large, but Mags was my mentor, is like my grandmother, and I will not abandon her after all the faith she has in me.

Mags clucks her tongue and shakes her head when she sees the two of us. Anxol drifts to her side, and Mags quickly weaves her hair once again, as promised.

As she braids, Mags asks, "Do you love her?" She nods her head to Anxol, who was absent-mindedly staring at the walls.

I nod without any hesitation. There is no doubt in my mind.

Mags quickly finishes braiding Anxol's hair, and pats her off, muttering something about the amazing shade of Anxol's hair. When she is done, Mags turns back to me.

"Good luck, my dear boy. Love is something that is hard to hold on to in this world." Mags smiles sadly, eyes filled with pain and sorrow.

* * *

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Next chapter up tomorrow.


	5. Hospitable

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Hope you enjoy the chapter and stick around for the rest of the story!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Later that day, Haymitch explains everything.

He tells us about District 13, his plan, what was to happen. Details were reserved, but he promised that he would reveal them to us later, much to Johanna's dislike.

His main point was to _do not let Katniss or Peeta die._

He tells us that if all of us can make it out of the arena, then we have a chance of being saved. It worried me that he might not be able to get all of us out of the arena, but Haymitch reassured us that it was almost definite that if we were still alive, we would get out of the arena. In the meantime though, Haymitch advised us to think of ways to break the barrier on the arena without harming ourselves, and trying not to get axed.

Make sure we somehow include Beetee in the alliance, since he was the technological compartment of our whole plan. We needed him as much as we need Haymitch of Plutarch. The steadily increasing alliance makes me uneasy; Katniss is going to be suspicious and we will attract much attention that I would rather we didn't have. We don't have much of a choice though.

Haymitch says that Plutarch is working on a way to get us all out of there in one piece.

And once we're away from the arena, we'll stay in District 13, which is underground and flourishing. In District 13, we'll plan the rebellion, fight the Capitol. And win with Katniss guiding us.

He makes it sound a lot easier than it actually is.

When Haymitch leaves, everything is silent.

"We're really doing this." Finnick says quietly.

"Can we not have any of this emotional last-words stuff?" Johanna snaps, which is her way of saying, _yes, we really are, and we might die._

I only sit in between them silently, thinking.

I think about Donnie, how afraid she must be right now. I think about Johanna, who probably won't like Katniss too much, but will still deal with her. I think about Finnick, and what it's like to lose him.

So many sacrifices. So many things that could go wrong.

But it's for the greater good. Donnie will not be Reaped, if this succeeds. We will never have the Hunger Games any more. We will be able to live in peace, I don't have to go to the Capitol every night, don't have to watch kids die.

It's a small sacrifice.

I will myself not to think about what will happen if we fail.

That night, Finnick holds me closer than usual, as if finally realizing the dangers of this operation.

I let a few tears fall silently, and curl up next to Finnick, and eventually fall asleep.

I could spend forever like this, curled next to Finnick, his heartbeat in my ears, his arms slung around me.

But we wake up, untangle ourselves from each other, and train to kill our competition.

And then I am reminded that wishful thinking never got me anywhere.

**.**

In training, I often stick close to Johanna and Finnick. I throw swords and knives while Finnick throws his trident. Johanna swings her axe and I try to do the same.

"Twenty feet!" Finnick yells, a smug grin on his face as his trident hits the dummy twenty feet away; the dummy completely skewered. You could see the prongs of his golden trident sticking through the dummy.

"Forty feet!" Johanna shouts, throwing her axe with an unnatural strength towards the dummy forty feet away from her. The axe lands dully in the dummy's head, the other end of the blade sticking out through the hard metal of the 'head'; clearly a fatal shot.

"Fifty feet!" I call out, a grin on my face. Johanna and Finnick watch from the sidelines, eying my every move like they were experts watching an amateur.

I hurl my swords with all the strength I could muster, only using a split second of pause to calculate the aim of then swords. They are familiar in my hands, like a part of my own arm.

The first sword hits the heart of the dummy fifty feet away with deadly speed and precision. The second sword follows milliseconds later, spearing the neck of the dummy. Both ends of the silver sword stick out the other end of the dummy, glinting maliciously in the dull training room lights.

I can see the other victors staring at the three of us as we laugh, friends even in this terrible situation. Katniss eyes us with suspicion and I know she thinks that the three of us are deadly and inseparable. Maybe she even thinks we are one of her biggest competition, though that is wrong. Everyone is our biggest competition here, we all won once one way or another.

Sometimes I join Peeta in the camouflage station, even though I'm terrible with colours. The instructor tells me I am like a blank canvas to paint, but I can never get the colors right. In the end, I watch as Peeta carefully picks out the colors and paints himself into his surroundings.

Sometimes I do some good old fist fighting with Finnick, too. It normally doesn't turn out well because we never hit each other. We end up, a heap on the ground, laughing in between kisses.

Johanna teases us, telling us that we were the star-crossed lovers of Panem. Peeta and Katniss, who were in earshot, turn to look at us. Peeta smiles, but Katniss wears a faint scowl.

One day, Haymitch gathers the three of us to talk. He tells us that Katniss has chosen Beetee and Wiress from District 3 to be in an alliance. Finnick quickly adds in that he wants Mags, his District 4 partner and old mentor, who is roughly about eighty years old. I second that addition to the alliance.

Haymitch nods. He tells us that since the alliance is so large, it's going to be hard gathering everybody up.

"You two – " Haymitch points to me and Johanna, " – will get Beetee, Wiress, and Mags. That will be your first priority."

Johanna and I grin at each other, partnered up.

"You – " Haymitch glances at Finnick, " – will get Katniss and Peeta."

"Why not two of us get Katniss and Peeta?" Finnick suggests casually. "If they're so important?"

"Here's the thing." Haymitch breaks it down for us. "The three of them will need someone to kill any tributes wanting to kill them, and one of you can't take care of all three of them. Katniss and Peeta, at least, are still youthful and have more defences."

"And I know you're wondering why I picked Johanna to get the three of them – " Haymitch continues, " – and trust me, it's not because I know Johanna is amazing with them."

Johanna snorts derisively.

"But I do know that Johanna isn't too happy about being close with Katniss." Haymitch points out. "And I'd rather not risk Johanna beheading one of them when she gets angry."  
"True." Johanna half grins. Johanna doesn't have a bad temper, she just gets set off very easily. And she never did like waiting for this rebellion for this long, we all know that.

"I'm also not too keen on wondering what'll happen to the both of you – " Haymitch glances at Johanna and Finnick, " – if Anxol isn't nearby."  
We all laugh. We all know that if Johanna and Finnick were alone in a room together, they'd just argue and yell at each other, annoy each other and bicker. If anything, they would end up spearing each other before they even reached the rest of the alliance.

"So that's that." Haymitch concludes.

"Also, Finnick, if you manage to get a hold of Beetee, Wiress, or Mags before either one of them do, bring them along with you." Haymitch adds.

Finnick nods.

"You get your assigned people out of the Cornucopia, you hide from the other tributes, and _then _you find each other." Haymitch instructs. "Got it?"  
We all nod in unison like eager students, though there is nothing to be eager about. We are grim and solemn as we file out of the room, digesting what we heard and committing it to our memory.

This is really happening.

Judging flies by in a flash. Johanna and I get a score of 9. Finnick gets a 10. He constantly rubs it in our faces, saying that he's stronger than we are.

Johanna and I don't hesitate to point out he only got a higher score than we did because he's a Career.

Katniss and Peeta got a twelve, the highest score possible, and a first in all of the Hunger Games history.

Tonight is the night of the interviews.

I was sitting, watching the first few interviews. So far, we were only on District 4, Mags talking. I'm honestly not too sure if Caesar understands what she's saying. Probably not. He's playing along though, and I'll give him some credit for not just dismissing her early.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Katniss. She was wearing a lovely wedding dress, beautiful but not overdone. White, flowing, elegant. It's a little strange, seeing someone as young as her wear a wedding dress, but this is all part of the star-crossed lovers act to get more sponsors. Pulling the nonexistent heartstrings of the Capitol citizens.

I was wearing what was, in my definition, a really short white bedazzled mini dress. It was strapless and really _really _tight. And then at the back of the mini dress, there was gauzy, transparent white material flowing out of it, touching the floor. It kind of reminded me of a ball gown that only had a half-finished bottom to it.

And then I was wearing ridiculously tall white high heels. My lips were a pale pink and my eyes were lined with black. My hair was heavy with artificial hair added in, streaks of golden yellow that did not belong.

Even my last moment presented at the Capitol will be saying, _buy me!_

Some parts were squeezing too hard, the dress too small, the material too transparent. I think I liked Fesiena's designs a lot more six years ago. Back before I won. Before I chose the path I did.

I really envied Katniss right now. Her white dress said graceful, flowing, and delicate. Mine said – I don't even want to think about it.

Mag's interview finished. Finnick squeezes my hand one last time before letting go. He is next, in front of me, and holding my hand the entire time.

"What about a kiss good luck?" Finnick asks playfully before he leaves.

"Not on your life." I reply wryly.

Finnick looks crestfallen for a second, but then I surprise him by giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Not what I had in mind, but it'll do." Finnick smirks. "I promise I'll try and save some sponsors for you."  
I rolled my eyes and push him out the doors.

I watch Finnick's interview carefully.

At one point, Caesar asks him, "So what's this I hear about you and a certain victor from District 5 being in a relationship? Are the rumours true?"  
I bite my lip, trying to contemplate whether or not we'd get more sponsors pretending we weren't together or saying we were.

It's up to Finnick now, though I half-wanted to run out onstage and decide for him.

"I will neither confirm nor deny those rumours, Caesar." Finnick smirks. "But I will say that the people in District 5 are very… hospitable."

He then proceeds to wink suggestively at the camera. He keeps his annoying smirk on for the rest of the interview.

"That Finnick Odair," Johanna begins, fuming and laughing at the same time.

"is _impossible._" I finish, angry but blushing at the same time.

Finnick grins straight at the camera, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he could hear exactly what Johanna and I were saying.

**.**

"How about you, Angel? Do you confirm or deny those rumors with Finnick Odair?" Caesar leans in close to hear my answer. "Come on, don't be afraid to tell me."

"How do you know it's me?" I smirk. "It could always be another victor."

Caesar and the audience roars with laughter, only because the only victors in District 5 are Vinster and I and we are all aware of that.

"Oh, Angel. Panem will greatly miss you and your lovely presence." Caesar smiles sadly, or as sad as Capitol citizens can get.

"Don't miss me too much, Caesar." I smile craftily. "I might be back sooner than you might expect."

I give one citizen in the front a large wink and blow a kiss to another in the back. The crowd cheers.

"Well, Angel. I'm sure we will support you the whole entire way." Caesar pats my legs. "Don't we?"

The audience roars loudly, a mass of noise; hollers, claps, yells. I smile and blow more kisses, but I know all of them only want one thing from me. The applause lasts for minutes, and when it finally dies downs, Caesar speaks again.

"So, Angel, how do you feel about some people underestimating you because of your name?" he asks, eying my white ensemble. Fesienna has always loved to dress me in white; it was almost my signature color around here.

"They can think whatever they want." I grin wolfishly. "But I hope they remember there's a reason why I won the Hunger Games once."

"I am sure that you will be remembered." Caesar smiles. "Panem's own Angel."

That was wrong. It was the _Capitol's _own Angel.

I was Anxol.

"What will you miss most about the Capitol?" Caesar asks.

"There's not much to miss since I'll be back soon, Caesar!" I laugh; a fake, plastic laugh that has no humor in it.

I know what everyone wants me to say. I know what they want to hear. What will get me sponsors. What will help me to survive, what Angel would say.

"But I will miss the lovely people here the most." I sigh dramatically, making sure to bat my extra-long eyelashes sorrowfully. "They are just so _giving _to me all the time."  
The words taste bitter on my tongue, and no one but me and Finnick will understand what I really mean by that last sentence. He's probably backstage laughing right now.

"Best of luck to you, Anxol!" Caesar calls out as the buzzer rings. "Panem's own Angel!"

He lifts my hand up high in the air, and I am sure to display myself for the last time, the same as what Finnick did. I wink and blow more kisses, and the crowd goes wild, crazy, untamed. For me. For what I can give to them.

As I leave the stage, I can hear the whispers of the crowd.

_She really is Panem's Angel; one sent from above to serve the Capitol well. _

Anxol. Anxol. Anxol.

That is who I am.

I will not die Angel. I am not Angel.

The Capitol created Angel.

When this is over, I will rip Angel away from me, and throw her far, far away.

And then I will be Anxol. Anxol, and only Anxol.

I like the sound of that.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

A bit more insight on Angel at the Capitol and the training center - what did you think?

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And, as per usual, the next chapter will be up tomorrow!


	6. Surprises

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Not to delay you any longer - I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Surprise.

I didn't like surprises.

I didn't like not knowing, didn't like not being prepared. Control, that's what it was. Having control over something, anything, in this terrifying, unpredictable world.

But here I am, surprised. Almost as shocked as when I found out I would be going back into the arena.

Peeta has just finished his interview, ending with a _bang._ One that even the most heartless citizen cannot forget.

Katniss is pregnant, he says. She is pregnant with his baby. A _baby._ Katniss is more tragic, their relationship only more heartbreaking.

To us, the victors, the members of the alliance, she is more vulnerable for attack. More vulnerable to be killed, for the rebellion to fail. More risk. More danger.

I glance over at Johanna, who is growling something about making things more complicated for us and not using protection. She mutters under her breath, her eyes taking on that annoyed, murderous glint again.

I look over at Finnick, and he looks worried, too, eyes crinkled.

A baby may set our plan off course. We need things to run as smooth as possible in the chaos of the Hunger Games. Nothing ever goes as planned during the Hunger Games, but we don't need the extra responsibilities that come with watching over a pregnant Katniss.

But Finnick squeezes my hand reassuringly, and I let myself believe that everything will be okay.

And for a split second, I'm angry and jealous. Katniss and Peeta, the star-crossed lovers of District 12, whose circumstances are just so _terrible _that you can't help but to pity them and cry. One side of me snarls at this; the demon who kills children is furious because Finnick and I have a much worse story to tell, one that lasted years; zipped lips and silent tears. She is angry because her story is left untold and while Panem swoons at the pitiful lovers, they do not realize that there is a worse history out there, a love in which there was no happy ending; only painstakingly sewed stitches holding the fragile seams together.

The good-girl Anxol before I won the Games tells me that there are worse stories than ours in Panem. That there is worse fates, worse lives, worse situations to be in. That I am not the worst by far, and though Finnick and I are tragic, there is some good left.

The demon can find no good. The demon cannot think of worse stories because we are the star-crossed lovers of Panem who sold ourselves for the freedom of others. Who killed and slaughtered, who died on the inside when their victims did. We are the star-crossed lovers who put on a facade to hide ourselves, who is forced to wear a mask and shackles at the Capitol; caged beasts who howl eternally, captured when the others are free. A story that will leave you to tears and wonder what monster could possibly do this - but no, this is no story. This is our lives, and there is no escaping it. The demon, even with her sick, cruel, twisted mind cannot think of a worse fate.

The angel reminds me that Katniss and Peeta are only children.

And the demon howls that we are too; only children who have seen too much and grew up too quickly, children who never really got to live.

**.**

There is two surprises that night. The baby is only the first. Somehow, at the end of Katniss' interviews, all the victors are onstage, joining hands.

United murderers. The first sign of the districts coming together, joining forces, for the first time since the Dark Days. We are the hope for each of our district; hope that we can get past whatever the Capitol throws at us. And now we stand united. Hope for Panem. Danger for the Capitol.

Katniss starts it. Johanna, Finnick and I quickly join, the first people to clasp onto the circle. People like Mags, Wiress, and Beetee join just as quickly, while others like Enobaria, Brutus, and Gloss need some encouraging.

But in the end, we are a circle, a ring, connected. I can see everyone; all the best who have killed and maimed, who have suffered and cried for what the Capitol has done to them. We are all the same. And we are all playing the same unfair game twice.

Finnick's callused, familiar hands are holding one of mine, holding it tightly. He turns to me, green eyes glinting in the fake Capitol lights, smiling grimly. Johanna's rough hands have a viselike grip on mine, and I don't have to look over to see the angry, rebellious glint in her eyes.

They try to turn away from the united victors; closing their cameras quickly. But this is live, and everyone across Panem is surely watching. They have already seen us. They have seen the hope of the districts united in the face of death.

This is only the beginning of the rebellion that will surely come.

**.**

I just want to lie down and sleep.

Close my eyes, count to ten, and drift off to another world. Go back to the world when Enkol would take care of everything for me. Go back to the white, snowy world that I so often retreat to when things are bad.

That's how I feel when all the interviews are over. Dizzy, tired, sick even though we did no training today. Finnick holds my hand as we walk, practically supporting my whole weight.

"What's wrong, Angelfish?" Finnick breathes, leaning in close to me.

We were walking back to our compartments for one last good night's sleep. The victors were all bunched up together, in one big pack.

I only smile at him, but it doesn't feel right. It's a smile that is pieced together in a rush, not a smile at all. There are a thousand worries in my head, a thousand 'what-ifs'.

Anything can go wrong.

Finnick, sensing my troubles, only smiles wider, gleaming white teeth showing.

"Let's enjoy our last night here, Angelfish." Finnick smirks.

I know what that smirk means. I should know. I've known Finnick for six years now.

But before I can run away in my too-high high heels, Finnick snatches me up by my middle and tosses me over his shoulder, ridiculous dress and all.

He holds my waist securely on his shoulder, letting my upper half drape over his back. I laugh and give a few half-hearted protests, but Finnick hears nothing.

He only starts running for the stairwell, away from the elevators and victors – who were all staring at us now – and he carries me up all four flights of stairs, only putting me down when we reach his compartment.

He spins me around, and we fall on the bed in a mess of limbs and cloth.

I hold him close, as close as I can, his lips only a hair's width away from mine. I stare at his eyes, his beautiful piercing green eyes, and wonder if this will be the last time I'll be seeing them so close to mine.

"This won't be the last time." Finnick whispers, as if reading my mind. "I promise. I swear."

I only close the space between us, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine, and wondering if I had taken them for granted.

We tug our ridiculous Capitol clothes off and lie down on the bed, savouring our last moments together.

He plays with my hair, twirling it, his chin on my head. I close my eyes enjoy his warmth, his protection, his shelter, and wish it could stay like this forever.

"Anxol?" Finnick asks.

"Mm?"

He tilts my chin up, and I find myself staring at his green eyes.

"I love you."

I smile softly back at him.

"I love you, too."

And in that moment, nothing in the universe, not even the Hunger Games, could pull us apart.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Sorry if this chapter was a bit strange/off, I think I was half delusional when I was writing this. Well, it sure sounds like it to me.

Do you have any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestions for the next chapters? Feel free to leave it as a review!

Thank you SO MUCH if you have already previously reviewed, in this sub-story or any of the past sub-stories! It really makes my day when you leave a review.

And as usual, the next chapter will be up tomorrow!


	7. Quarter Quell

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Finally! The long-anticipated (maybe?) chapter where all the actions begins - the time they enter the Games for the second time.

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

It's always hard to say goodbye.

It was hard saying goodbye to Enkol.

It was hard saying goodbye to Donnie.

It was hard saying goodbye to Finnick.

It shouldn't be hard. It's only one word, two syllables.

But it is. It's harder than it should be, harder than what I wish it was.

It's the fear of _not knowing _that makes it so hard.

Not knowing what will happen next.

Not knowing if you'll see each other again.

Not knowing if they'll be safe.

It's hard to say goodbye. It's hard to walk away.

But this is nothing comparing to what was to come.

.

I step into my tube that will take me to the arena they have prepared this year. The tube ascends. I try and calm my jittering nerves.

The tube stops. The countdown starts; a deep, daunting voice starting from sixty all the way to one. I can feel Enkol's pocket watch around my neck counting down with the voice, a terrible _ticktockticktockticktock _of how much time I have left.

I take a quick glimpse around, taking in all I need.

Water surrounding the Cornucopia. Narrow spokes leading to the Cornucopia. Beach behind me. Jungle behind the beach.

Weapons.

I eye the weapons, and a few things catch my eye – tridents, nets, axes. All gleaming in the sun, bright, malicious blades just ready to be used.

But the one thing that I am really noticing are the double-bladed swords. They are mine. Everyone in this arena knows it; we all have a weapon that we claim as our own. No one goes near your own weapons. It's an unsaid law. Whoever who breaks this rule is asking to be hunted down by the owner.

I catch Johanna's eyes, who was on the other side of the Cornucopia. She looks at Beetee and Wiress. I know what she is trying to say. She will get Mags, Wiress, Beetee, while I run to the Cornucopia for the weapons we will need.

It's for the best. Johanna is at the tail of the Cornucopia, and it will take longer for her to get weapons. Plus, I have slightly longer legs.

_Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. _

My eyes meet Finnick's. He smiles at me, though I can tell he is worried. I smile back and prepare to run.

He mouths a word. I can't tell, but I think it's the word _love. _

I smile faintly, raise an eyebrow, but I mouth back the same and blow him a kiss, just for the cameras. He catches it and grins lopsidedly. I can see Johanna rolling her eyes at us, Katniss eying us suspiciously, and Peeta smiling faintly, his bright blue eyes glinting in the blazing sunlight.

_Three. Two One. _

The cannons ring.

The Game has started. For the second time.

**.**

I reach the Cornucopia third, just a fraction of a second behind Finnick and Katniss. I quickly grab what weapons I can – a few double-bladed swords and axes – and I'm bolting out of there.

It is a bloodbath. What the Capitol wants. A bloodbath of people dying, people who have won once only to realize that there is no winning this game. What happened to the united victors, connected as the hope of each district? What happened to fighting against the Capitol since the Dark Days?

It is all blood in the salty water now. Useless. Pointless. Was it a lie? I don't have time to contemplate the actions of us, the ruthless killers. I have to do what I was assigned to do.

I see Finnick swimming for Peeta, and Johanna diving in after Beetee, who has fallen into the water. I sprint towards Wiress, who was just standing there.

I see the male tribute from District 9 charging towards her, spear in hand. I push myself to run faster, and make it just in time to push Wiress out of the way. She falls to the sand, and I quickly drop most of the weapons I was holding next to her, to use as self-defence or something.

I leap up and block the man's stab with a kick to the stomach. I jump onto his back and plunge a sword through it, hearing his cannon go off.

_We were united, weren't we? You were holding hands, too. And you. And you. And you. Now you're all corpses in the sand. _

I was about to get off of the dead body and retreat to Wiress when I hear an earth-shattering yell, all the way from the other side of the Cornucopia.

"AN!" I hear Finnick bellow, so loud I'm sure everyone heard. I turn to look at the direction of the voice, and instead I see Woof, the male tribute from District 8, right behind me with a malicious-looking knife in his hands.

_You were holding hands, too. You wanted to be united. Why are you trying to kill me now? _

I duck just in time, hearing the swift _whoosh _of the knife just missing my head by the width of a hair.

I pull my sword out of the male from 9's body and roll away, dodging Woof's stab.

I duck and swing, barely missing Woof. I finally manage to stab him in the stomach, and he falls to the ground.

_What about you, Anxol? You shouldn't be talking. You were holding hands as well. How quickly you turned from an embrace to a stab. _

I turn back and I see Wiress still sitting there, miraculously unharmed, picking up the weapons I dropped with her. I turn to the shore and I see Johanna still trying to catch Beetee.

"Stay here." I say strictly to Wiress. She nods. I drop my bloody sword and pick up an axe.

There are still tributes in the Cornucopia. I see the Careers leaving into the forest, and there is no sign of Finnick, Katniss, or Peeta.

I run on a spoke, the one closest to Johanna.

I hear her spit out a few curse words, along with a mouthful of water.

I pull her up, onto the spoke, and hand her the axe.

"Go watch over Wiress, she's over there." I point out the spot where Wiress was obediently sitting. "I'll get Beetee."

She gasps out a few more profanities, but she nods.

I dive into the water, careful to avoid any weapons that missed their target and fell into the water.

You can't _not _be so close to Finnick all the time and _not _know how to swim. I have visited District 4 a few times for the whole day – days where Donnie wants to be alone – and they were days filled with running on the beach, kissing in the sand, and learning how to swim.

Finnick says I'm a natural, but I think he's just trying to flatter me.

Being underwater, searching for Beetee, I can almost pretend I'm in District 4, in the salty water, Finnick's arms around me as we kiss underwater.

I smile, partly because of the memory, and partly because I can see Beetee ahead of me. I surface, and I see him doggy paddling, holding something in his hand.

I quickly grab him and pull him towards the shore before any of the remaining tributes spot us and decide that we're easy prey.

Johanna and Wiress are already at the shore when I reach it. Johanna pulls Beetee roughly out, and she drags me into the sand.

She hands me few double-bladed swords, and without saying a word, the four of us run.

**.**

"Where's Mags?" I pant, after we stop a reasonable distance away from the Cornucopia.

"Finnick got to her first." Johanna puffs, while looking around.

"We should keep on walking." I advise. "At least until we find water or food."  
The four of us walk all afternoon, with no sign of water. Wiress tends to stray off track, and Beetee stays with her at all times. I hold Wiress' hand and lead her, gently but firmly, so we can make more progress.

It's evening, and there's still no sign of water. By now, all four of us are parched and starving. Our brisk walk slowed down to more of a tired slog.

We've been walking for hours, unable to find any source of water. We managed to find a few animals – I have no idea what they are – and toast them, but without any water to quench our thirst, we would all be dead in the morning.

Johanna and I don't talk, only focused at the task at hand - escaping the Cornucopia and finding Katniss. Soon, talking wasn't even an option anymore - we couldn't muster enough strength to without water. Beetee and Wiress are trailing between the two of us, both equally as tired and worn. Wiress sings despite Johanna's threats. Beetee holds on tight to Wiress' hand and fiddles with his cylinder - the only thing he managed to grab at the Cornucopia. The cylinder is wrapped in fine, gold wires and I quickly recognize it as the same wires I used in my own Games to fry the arena.

It was hot, so dreadfully hot in the rainforest. It felt like we were being slowly fried on a barbeque. A very leafy, green barbeque. I have to blink hard a few times to make sure I'm not seeing things. To make sure that I see my friend Johanna in front of me, strong and defiant, and not my little sister crying as she tries to survive another day.

Eventually, we're all too tired to even walk any more. Our legs give out, and there is no way we can get any farther without any water.

"Why is there," Johanna wheezes out, "no…freaking…water?"

I collapse in a heap on the floor next to her, my legs unable to hold my weight for a second longer.

"Even piss is sounding like a good option right now." I mumble, my throat dry.

Johanna moans in agreement.

"Do you think you can get your lovely sponsors to send us something, An?" Johanna gasps, spitting out the words _lovely sponsors _like they were poison. So much for trying to charm the Capitol.

I mumble something incoherent, even to myself. My brain was barely able to string together a few words together, and I wonder if the Gamemakers purposely put some kind of fog in the air that makes you delusional and dumb.

They better had not. Plutarch had said he was going to get us out of here. To fight. To rebel. We can't exactly do that if we can't even form basic sentences.

The lack of water was really getting to us. Our steps turned into stumbles, and our vision was getting increasingly blurry. Johanna was getting more irritable than usual, and everything seemed fuzzy and unclear.

I take a hazy look at Johanna. Her eyes look sunken, and I'm sure mine does, too. Our lips were all chapped and peeling, and somewhere behind me I can hear Beetee heaving a dry retch.

The effects of severe dehydration were kicking in. Already, we don't have much time left.

The Capitol anthem blares in the sky like a rude alarm clock, shaking all four of us to look to the sky.

We see faces in the sky – eight people dead. Some faces I couldn't see clearly, but I knew for sure that the Careers, Finnick, Peeta, and Katniss were all still alive. Vinster's face is in the sky though, his resigned dark brown eyes boring holes into my skull. Though I still remember he chose Shaye over me, let Shaye try and kill me, how he left me as meat for the Careers, he was still my mentor. Someone who, at least somewhat understood what I went through. A part of home, a part of my life in District 5.

I look away from his unsmiling picture and try to act like it was nothing. To act as if Vinster and everybody else didn't die today, people who, for a fraction of a second, believed that they had really escaped the Games.

It's dark, too dark for us to continue on any more. Not like we could have. We were all lying down in a small clearing, too thirsty to fight, too thirsty to do anything.

"Even hell probably has more water than here." Johanna groans, getting up into a sitting position.

I nod in agreement, mouth too dry to respond.

"Beetee, Wiress, are you guys hungry?" I ask feebly. No need to ask if they're thirsty. They'd be inhuman if they weren't.

They both shake their heads. Wiress throws in a few 'tick-tocks' for good measure – something she's been doing for the past six hours or so. It's starting to get under my skin, though I force myself to be patient with her. Johanna has decided the opposite about five and a half hours ago. Beetee looks tired and weary, though I'm sure his brain is working better than all of ours combined, even at this state.

"Go to sleep." Johanna snaps. They nod and within minutes, they're snoring, curled up next to each other.

"I'll take first watch." Johanna offers, holding her axe ready though it swings haphazardly. I dodge the sharp blade and scrabble for my double bladed swords, which were discarded on the ground when I was too tired to walk.

"Thanks." I mumble, falling into a heap on the floor.

I toss and turn, not only the lack of water keeping me awake. I think of Finnick, if he's hurt, if he killed anybody at the bloodbath, if he's with Katniss. If he's thinking of me right now, and if he still remembers his promises. I think of Donnie, who is at this moment, watching our fates played out in front of her. She must be so scared, and I want to be strong for her, but there's so many dangers and so many doubts and I want her to be safe but I don't know if I can be there for her. I imagine her watching me die and being alone in this world that took away so much from her.

Thoughts of Finnick and Donnie swirl about in my mind, and I can't help but to think about all horrors, of all the things I miss, of all my wishes and hopes. They take over my mind, making it impossible to sleep. I almost wish the dehydration would hit me in full shock to take away my mind whirring with all the worst possibilities.

I fell into a fitful sleep, cursing the cold ground for not being softer and for not having Finnick next to me.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Sorry, I'm quite terrible with action writing, as I pointed out in previous chapters during the first sub-story, probably. I just can't write action sequences well, so I apologize if some things seem quite dull.

Well, anyways, what did you think about this chapter; the start of the third Quarter Quell?

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? Feel free to leave it as a review!

And, as per usual, the next chapter will be up tomorrow!

(Early happy Mother's Day in advance! Well, depending on what time zone you're in. Hopefully you don't spend it inside reading fan fiction, but instead, doing something nice for all your mothers!)


	8. Restrained

Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins!**

* * *

Johanna shakes me awake an hour later, telling me it's my turn for the watch. I groan but I force myself to sit up and hold on tightly to my swords, trying to stay alert and focused.

I yawn, my dry lips cracking. She falls asleep in seconds, and I sit there, preparing for any dangers.

I don't feel any better than when I fell asleep. In fact, I feel even worse. I feel like I was slowly crumbling, my skin so dry, until I was nothing but a pile of dust.

The hour passes by, uneventful. Just as I am about to wake Johanna up, the loud sound of gongs ring, and she is wide awake.

"What was that?" She demands.

"I have no idea." I answer.

We count out twelve gongs. When the gongs stop, a flash in the sky appears. Lightening.

I tense, all nerves on high. Lightening was never a good sign for me. But instead, Johanna points out something I didn't even think about.

"Rain." She says, in awe, staring up at the sky as if Snow's dead corpse floated there.

We quickly shake up Wiress and Beetee, and point to the lightening.

We tell them it's rain. They immediately follow us towards the lightening without any hesitation. I stumble along with them, the prospect of water alluring and almost too good to be true.

When we seem to have reached the lightening, it stops. We should be disappointed, but we're not.

Because there's something even better.

Rain.

It falls from the sky, like some glorious sign from heaven. We all open our mouths wide and crane our necks up to the sky. We take in big gulps, as if it was the most beautiful thing on Earth.

But then, almost as suddenly as the rain began, it changed.

It turned red. Blood. Thick and slimy, and coating our faces with it.

We close our mouths and start looking for a way out, the blood-rain falling thicker and thicker.

I see a figure in the distance. I manage to identify him as Blight, Johanna's district partner. He was shouting, the blood in his eyes, stumbling around blindly. I turn and see Johanna's lips forming his name until -

_Boom!_

Blight flies through the air, a sick, acidic smell in the air; burning flesh. His cannon rings through the pouring blood-rain, loud and clear. He must of hit a force field in the arena. Sizzled him, roasted him. Dead.

Johanna's eyebrows knit together, lips pursed tightly together. There are no tears in her eyes, no, there _can't _be tears in her eyes, it just has to be the blood.

Soon, the blood-rain becomes so thick that I can barely see Johanna in front of me.

I grasp Beetee's hand tightly, and grab onto Johanna's hand tightly. Johanna grips back just as tightly, and I trust that she's holding Wiress, too. We wander around, panicked, away from the area we saw Blight, where the force field was. We're running, running and slipping, but not finding a way out. The rain surrounds us now, like a big red wall. There's no escape, and nothing but red and goo and blood.

Suddenly, everything is pitch black. Even the moonlight has gone out.

I turn around, and find myself face to face to a large wave, as tall as a building.

Before either of us can scream, the wave crashes down and swallows us in.

**.**

I want to thrash around, want to kick my legs, wave my arms, find air.

But I don't.

Instead, I hold on tightly to Johanna and Beetee, and I feel them squeezing tightly back.

The wave tosses us around like dolls, carrying us to who-knows-where. Sometimes our heads are underneath the water, and for a few precious seconds, they might be up in the air.

I can't see. I want to let go, grab Johanna and go.

But I don't.

Katniss wanted Beetee and Wiress in the alliance. Katniss is the face of the rebellion. I will listen to her, and I will bring Beetee and Wiress to her. Plus, I won't just leave the two of them in this wave by themselves. Beetee is vital in the rebellion, and well, Wiress is a part of Beetee.

The wave carries us in a rush of water and bodies. At one point, I think I hear a cannon, maybe two. I hear Beetee yelling out, and I hear someone screaming. Sometimes, I'm screaming too.

The wave finally sets us down – no, lets us drop – onto the sand.

The water recedes, and I moan in pain. It feels like there is water and blood everywhere - in my eyes, up my nose, in my mouth.

Beside me, I can hear Johanna groaning, mumbling something under her breath. Probably swearing at something.

I drag myself up, and help Johanna do the same. Wiress is already up, and spinning in loopy circles. She seems less ruffled than we were.

I grab Beetee, and find that he has a large gash on his side. I drag him a little more gently, mindful of the blood seeping into the seawater.

Johanna roughly grabs Wiress and starts dragging her away. We need to continue finding Katniss, even though we're all pretty dazed right now. At least we're not dehydrated anymore, I guess.

Beetee is heavy, and practically unconscious, and I can start feeling my legs starting to give way. Wiress is spinning in crazy-man circles, making it difficult for Johanna to drag her anywhere.

"That's _it!" _Johanna screeches, and she pushes Wiress down.

Normally, I would tell Johanna to be a little nicer or something, but I don't have the will or energy to. Lack of sleep, food, and being hit by a wave doesn't seem to make me much more compassionate.

A figure is running towards us. I scramble around, looking for a weapon, _any _weapon, to defend ourselves.

Oh, God, w_here are our weapons?_

"Johanna! Anxol!" A _very _familiar voice calls out.

"Finnick!" The both of us yell back, voices collapsing with relief.

Finnick bounds towards us and hugs us both, despite the fact that we're both coated in that blood-rain.

Johanna protests and kicks him until he lets go. I, however, am immensely relieved that he's here, even though I already knew he was alive. I still hold on tight to him, though I am forced to keep my distance.

Johanna starts explaining everything, too fast for me to catch. I am still slightly woozy from everything, the wave probably knocking out a few of my more important senses.

I see Katniss and Peeta arrive at the scene. Finnick must've gotten them safely, then. Of course he did.

Wiress 'tick-tocks' a few more times, and Johanna snaps at her again. Wiress spins towards her, and Johanna pushes her down, hard.

"Lay off her." Katniss snaps, her grey eyes blazing at the sight of the two of us; untrustworthy tributes that she hasn't chosen to work with.

Oh, God. I already know this isn't going to be good. Johanna clearly isn't too big of a fan of Katniss, she's already angry at Beetee and Wiress, and she's probably still pissed off from the dehydration.

"Lay off her?" Johanna hisses dangerously. Her eyes are narrowed, filled with hate and anger. I can still remember Johanna's fury when we realized we would have to wait for the face of the rebellion and protect them.

I tackle Johanna to the floor before she could do something rash – I don't know, break Katniss' fingers or something.

I pin her to the ground, holding her wrists down. It's not an easy job, since she's flailing around like a madman and I'm worn out from the wave. Soon, it turns into a scratching contest in the sand. Sand is flying into my eyes, mixing in with my hair and going into the scratch wounds Johanna creates, burning.

"Get off me, An!" Johanna snarls, clawing at me. "_Get off, _An! We got the two of them out of that bleeding jungle for _her _and now she's – "

Before Johanna could finish her sentence, Finnick picks the both of us up, toss us over his shoulder, and walks to the water as if the two of us weighed nothing but an empty bag. Johanna hits Finnick with her usual strength, kicking and punching him, but I am too tired and glad to do much. No more running around this arena of dangers searching for Katniss. They are safe. Finnick is safe.

Johanna's still screaming profanities, and I can't help but to laugh at her large range of vocabulary. It feels good to laugh.

Finnick puts me down gently and dunks Johanna into the water repeatedly, Johanna still screaming.

When Johanna is squeaky clean again, she quickly makes her way over to the camp, where all the food and water was. It seems like her anger is drowned out by the tempting lull of food and water.

Finnick and I sit there in the sand, just waiting and wondering.

Haymitch advised us – no, _forbid _us – to do anything on-screen. He said that part of the plan was for Panem to focus on Katniss and Peeta, to pay attention to them. He said something about Panem being able to see the faces of the rebellion, paying attention to their future leader. I never did quite catch what he said after he growled _no funny business in the arena; they have to watch Katniss and Peeta and understand the importance of this rebellion. _

He says Finnick and I will distract the audience from that.

Finnick had smiled and made jokes about how he and I were so amazing that not even the star-crossed lovers from 12 could overshadow us, but I could hear the sadness in his voice.

And now, sitting so close to each other, so relieved that we were both alive, it was almost impossible to contain ourselves.

I could feel him next to me, and everything was so close. The warm of his skin, the protection of his arms, the softness of his lips, the depths of his eyes.

He was so close. But I couldn't close the gap between us. I wanted to, every fibre of my being screaming at me to jump into his arms and stay where I know it is safe. My haven. My wall, my shield.

I was suddenly furious at Haymitch and his stupid rules.

I can tell Finnick is thinking the same thing; his bright green eyes keep on darting to me over and over again, his fingers lacing and unlacing themselves over and over again as if he was itching to do something but forced not to.

I almost want to laugh – I'm drenched from head to toe with red blood-rain, and Finnick, for some odd reason, is covered in scaly scabs. What a couple we would make. Panem's best looking couple.

I guess I must've let a small smile escape, because Finnick smiles at me, too. I suddenly turn away, all too aware of his warmth and his eyes. I want to be closer. But I can't. I can hear Finnick scrabbling around in the sand next to me, scratching his scaly scabs and I know he wants to do something that would most definitely go against Haymitch's rule.

Suddenly, before I could protest or scream, Finnick picks me up and throws me into the salty water, breaking my train of thoughts that I really should not be thinking.

"Finnick Odair!" I sputter when I emerge, coughing up saltwater.

"Sorry." He smiles apologetically, green eyes glinting, lopsided smile on his face.

"Is _that _your way of restraining yourself?" I spat out, ignoring his hand of help and pulling myself out.

"Wait until you see me unrestrained." Finnick smirks cockily.

I growl slightly and stomp over to the camp, where Johanna was guzzling water and stuffing shellfish into her mouth.

I join her, though eating a large amount less.

"What happened to Mags?" Johanna asks through a mouthful of shellfish, looking at Finnick, who was still at the shore.

Katniss explains the fog, and how Finnick saved her and Peeta over Mags. I turn over and look at Finnick, who was just sitting at the shore, which no doubts remind him of home. I wish I was a little nicer to him now. I wish I could go over to Finnick and hold him close and tell him that everything will be okay.

I loved Mags too, she was kind to me when Finnick introduced me to her. Though, of course, I was never as close to her as Finnick was.

Johanna and I explain Haymitch's instructions to bring Wiress and Beetee, and Katniss thanks us both. I attempt to get Wiress to eat, but with no luck.

Finnick crawls back to the camp, the sparkle in his eyes gone. There is only a dull light to his green eyes, and I can see his worries weighing him down. He mumbles something about sleep and collapses on the ground next to me.

As he tries to sleep, he reaches out for my hand. I let him take it, the calluses on his palm rough and scratchy against mine. I draw small circles on his hand and rest it in the soft sand. He quickly falls asleep almost on my lap, and I can't help but to smile at him fondly at his peaceful figure.

I look up to see Peeta smiling at Finnick and I, something in his eyes that I can't quite distinguish.

We quickly get tired, even though it's only early morning. Soon, everybody is sleeping. Only me, Johanna, Katniss, and Wiress are awake.

"I'll take second watch." I volunteer sleepily, the lack of sleep finally taking its toll on me. Katniss nods, and I lie down in the cool sand next to Finnick.

Finnick and I are just a little closer than what normal friends should be.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Well, I hope you all had a fantastic Mother's Day!

You may have noticed that I used a line or two from the book; Catching Fire. I probably will do this in future chapters and in the next sub-story as well, since I want to follow along closely with the events of the book. So just letting it out now: the lines, characters, story, and basically everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.

What did you think of the chapter? Sorry if some parts are a bit weird (and yes, I apologize too much, - ack, sorry!); following the book is hard to do, and I'm trying to adjust to it and all.

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? Feel free to leave it as a review!

Next chapter up tomorrow!


	9. Ambush

Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!

I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Weapon hunting.

I'd hate to admit it, but it's something I quite like.

There's something beautifully dangerous about it – the sleek metal, sturdy handle. It's like a part of you, like Katniss' arrows, Finnick's trident, and Johanna's axes.

The next morning, Katniss figures out that the arena is a clock, after realizing what Wiress' 'tick-tocks' mean. I'm not entirely too sure how she did figure it out; probably while we were all asleep. We quickly stock up on weapons at the Cornucopia, especially Johanna and I, since our last weapons were washed away.

Katniss discovered that the arena was actually a clock – different sectors had different horrors, each one lasting an hour – which explained Wiress' 'tick-tocks'. We were still trying to work it out, but there are still some things we don't understand, such as what each sector contained. We were sure, however, that each sector held something dangerous that would appear for an hour, moving on around the arena until the lightening at the 12'o'clock sector began again. Instead of venturing into the different sectors, we decided on something else: collecting weapons. You never know.

Katniss is adding to her collection of arrows. Finnick is salvaging tridents and nets, and Johanna is poking around, looking for an axe that will fit up to her standards. Peeta is drawing out a map of the arena, Beetee is healing, and Wiress is singing, washing Beetee's cylinder.

Finnick throws a trident at the Cornucopia, and it hits it with a dull _thud. _It's embedded inside the Cornucopia, several inches deep. If I didn't know him better, I would've thought he was being threatening – but it's Finnick. He's showing off again, for the sponsors watching. For the tributes in the alliance. I almost let myself think that he's showing off for me.

Johanna picks up a pair of lethal-looking axes and throws it at the Cornucopia, again, embedded several inches deep. She smiles at them and yanks them out, pleased at the end result.

"Think you can do any better, Enkeli?" Finnick teases challengingly, pulling his trident out.

"I know so." I smirk back at him.

I pick up a pair of deadly sharp double-bladed swords and throw one as hard as I can, directly towards Finnick.

He doesn't move, only grins at me.

The sword whizzes and hits the Cornucopia behind him, only missing him by millimetres. The sword is rooted in several inches deep, like Johanna's axe. The Gamemakers probably aren't too pleased with all the holes we were creating in the thick metal of the Cornucopia.

"You missed." Finnick smirks annoyingly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." I say sarcastically, yanking the sword from the Cornucopia. "Next time I'll be more careful to hit your chest."

"Abs of Steel." Finnick corrects, eyes gleaming once again.

I see Katniss staring at us out of the corner of my eye, and I turn away from Finnick, looking for more swords and weapons to use.

I bend down, picking up a particularly sharp knife with a malicious blade.

"Nice view up here." Finnick comments. I don't have to turn around to know he's grinning and staring at me.

Instead of turning around and spearing his guts like he deserves, I ignore him and continue searching through the wreckage of weapons.

"Don't ignore me, Angelfish." Finnick pouts, following me wherever I go, occasionally picking up something else, but never leaving my side. I smile secretly, his presence comforting me.

I turn to him, and my eyes are fixed on his, green on grey. I am immediately greeted with the rushing desire to jump on him, kiss him senseless, and just stay like that all day.

The hunger in his eyes tells me that he wants to do the same.

I am tempted to just ignore Haymitch – he's drunk all the time anyways – but I don't. Haymitch is right. I resist the temptation and continue moving on, collecting weapons until I can't carry any more.

The three of us walk over to Peeta and Katniss, who were still trying to figure out the clock-arena while Wiress washed the cylinder Beetee carried from the Cornucopia.

I smile whenever I see the cylinder, but it's a bitter smile. Those are the wires that I used to fry my arena to ashes. Those are the wires that Beetee used to fry the remaining tributes in his Games.

Of course Beetee would have them. Technology. It's what he knows. It could be all he knows. How much do we really know outside what they teach us in our Districts? Nothing.

Wiress sings and hums while she washes the cylinder clean. Our alliance is large, dangerously large. But Katniss picked Beetee and Wiress, and Finnick, Johanna and I are just the tributes that she is forced to work with. If Katniss thinks the alliance is too large, or if she thinks we are too untrustworthy, the three of us will be the first people she turns on. For all we know, we could be some of her biggest competitors.

My mind is spinning with scenarios in which I watch the face of the rebellion kill Johanna and Finnick. Or ones where I kill her. Or ones where we are simply forced to run and abandon our task.

And then, suddenly, everything goes quiet.

Wiress has stopped singing.

I whip around to see Wiress' throat split open, Gloss – the male tribute from 1 – dripping wet with a bloody knife in his hand.

In seconds, everything is chaos.

The _twang _of Katniss' bow and the _whoosh _of Johanna's axe tells me they have attacked. The _thud _and the _splash _of the bodies tell me they have hit their mark.

But this I don't see.

I throw one of my swords as hard as I can towards Brutus – the male from 2 – but he's fast and dodges it. However, it leaves a long, deep scratch on his arm. He's not fast enough.

Suddenly, Peeta's body pushes me, and almost pushes me into the water. I look up to see Peeta on top of me, Finnick on top of _him, _and Enobaria's – the female from 2 – knife deep in his thigh.

I pull myself out from the heap of bodies and manage to catch a glimpse of Enobaria and Brutus running away.

I sprint after them, sword in my hand, cursing the Cornucopia for blocking the way. If it weren't there, my sword would've speared the both of them by now. They would be long dead and two cannons would ring, two less threats to Katniss.

I see Katniss dashing towards them as well, even though the two of them are almost back in the jungle. I throw my sword as hard as I can, and it manages to scratch a bit of Enobaria's leg before she disappears in the jungle.

_That's what you get for stabbing Finnick, you - _

But before I could even finish my thought, the small island the Cornucopia sits on starts spinning. It wasn't the delightful spinning, like the way you spin on a beach, drunk with happiness.

No, this was violent spinning. I am almost ripped away from the Cornucopia, the force and speed strong and pulling me into the water. I cling onto the Cornucopia for dear life, holding on as tightly as I can, closing my eyes, and feeling my body flying limply like a ragdoll. I can feel my white-blonde hair coming loose from its already falling apart ponytail.

When the Cornucopia stops spinning, I open my eyes again to see Peeta, Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss all in the same, frazzled, wind-blown state as me.

"Where's Beetee?" Peeta manages to cough out through a mouthful of sand. We all look and see Beetee's thrashing figure about twenty yards away.

I look at Finnick, and see the blood gushing out of his thigh. Quickly, I swim over to Beetee, who was in a mix of panic and sadness, and I pull him towards the shore. My mind is still frazzled from the spin, and I can barely see straight - let alone swim straight - and saltwater goes into my mouth, nose, and eyes.

When I reach the shore, lugging Beetee, Johanna and Finnick are already there. Johanna tells me that Katniss went diving for the cylinder Beetee brought from the Cornucopia, the cylinder that Wiress was last washing. Quickly, our alliance tries to pull itself together after the quick but deadly ambush from the Careers.

While Johanna tries to force-feed Beetee, I tend to Finnick. His gash is still bleeding, even though he took off his undershirt and used it as a bandage.

The red drops were still dripping into the sand, and I have a strong desire to mop it up though I know it is pointless.

"Can you stand?" I ask, supporting him as he wobbles slightly on his good leg.

"I'm fine." He replies, wincing. He notices my staring and tries to give me a reassuring smile.

"The blood pooling at your feet isn't exactly saying the same thing." I raise an eyebrow at him.

"It's the cloth." Finnick replies, a flicker in his eyes. "If only I had something like…a jumpsuit to staunch it better."

I mock glare at him and stare at my jumpsuit, which was still mostly intact after our run-in with the wave.

I will have to admit, as perverted as it seems, the jumpsuit material _would _staunch the blood better. It was waterproof, and probably would stop the blood from flowing. The gaping hole in Finnick's leg disturbs me - and not because of the flesh and blood. I wish I had hit Enobaria where it would wound bigger.

"Please?" Finnick gives me the puppy-dog eyes he knows I can't resist. "It'll be for the greater good."

I shake my head and take off the top part of my jumpsuit, leaving me in my underclothes.

"Every time I take off my shirt it's for the greater good." I mumble quietly, only loud enough for Finnick to hear, making sure the cameras can't pick up my voice.

His smirk turns into a sympathetic smile, his eyes filled with understanding. He knows I'm talking about Donnie.

I wonder how Donnie's doing now. She's watched the Games before – but never the one with me in it. I absolutely forbid her from it. I wonder how she was feeling now, seeing me for the first time in the Games that she has seen killed so many others.

I look into the cameras and wonder if she's looking back. If she's crying or if she's already preparing herself for the worst.

Katniss comes back to shore, carrying the cylinder that Wiress was last washing. She tends to Beetee, who was still in shock after Wiress' death and the spinning. While Katniss plays nurse and Johanna fumes, I tend to Finnick. I carefully untie the shirt on Finnick's thigh and tie my jumpsuit shirt over the wound. He only watches me carefully.

"You should play nurse more often." Finnick says, patting his wound gingerly, wincing slightly. "I like it."

Which was, in other words, Finnick's way of saying _thank you._

It was like the Finnick that I met in the compartment of the train for the very first time – sincere, slightly disguised, and slightly suggestive.

"I hope I never have to again." I reply honestly, though a smile works its way to my face.

I wait for some suggestive reply, something probably including feistiness and the word 'bombshell' – something I've heard a million times – but it never comes.

We only stare at each other again, glad that we're both together, but wishing we could be even closer.

Preferably with no space between us.

I break away from his gaze – even though it's the last thing I want to do – and we walk back to the camp. And I wonder if I'll actually make it out of here and kiss Finnick again.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Ack, yes, I know. Quite a terrible chapter. I'm sorry! I can't seem to fix it for the better, and it is really bugging me. Well, I hope you guys like it better than I do. Ack. Sorry again.

And - today, I'm just piling on the bad news - I'm afraid I won't be able to post chapters for the next three days.

Cue pitchforks and anger...now!

The reason is because I'm going away for a short trip, and I won't be able to bring my laptop along. I would really, really, really love to be able to post stories even throughout the trip, but unfortunately, I can't. So, I really, really apologize for that. Really. First, a terrible chapter, now this? Words really cannot explain how sorry I am for all of this. Just, really, _sorry._

But I'll be back in three days - with a new chapter. When I get back, I'm expecting a million reviews, alerts, and favorites! Haha - just kidding. More like I'm expecting hate mail and some internet daggers sent my way. I'm completely fine with accepting both, really.

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestion? Some hate mail for this terrible chapter and horrible news? Well, feel free to let your feelings shine as a review!

I'll see you all in three days!

And I'm really sorry. Again. Sorry.


	10. Jabberjays

I'M BACK!

Did you miss me? Ah, well, whether you missed me or not, the next chapter is up!

Hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

We're all confused.

We want to find the '12' portion of the clock-arena, but we can't decide where it is. After the wave, everything – the whole arena – seems to have shifted. We can no longer tell which section has the blood-rain, or the lightening, or anything at all until the wave hits again.

We finally decide on a random path and hope for the best – which is not looking likely, since it is the Hunger Games – but I keep my opinion to myself.

I volunteer to get water with Katniss with the spile Haymitch sent them. Johanna forces Peeta to draw another map of the arena on a leaf, even though he insists on accompanying Katniss into the jungle. Finnick mumbles something about 'healing' and 'taking care of Beetee'.

Katniss looks suspicious at our overprotective attitude, but she follows me anyways. I lead her to a tree, around 15 feet away from them. I can tell Katniss is suspicious – she's casting dubious glances at me, and staring off into the distance, as if thinking hard.

I don't know if Katniss is suspecting that we're protecting Peeta a little too much, or if she's suspecting that Finnick, Johanna, and I will overtake our alliance and kill her off.

I won't lie - it would be extremely easy for Finnick, Johanna and I to kill everyone else in this alliance. Though, yes, Katniss does prove a challenge with her skill in archery, with the three of us, we could manage. And of course, I don't want to see Peeta after somebody hurts Katniss. But it would be easy to kill the three of them off, to run away and pretend that there isn't only one winner.

I chastise myself. There are no what-ifs. My duty is to protect Katniss and Peeta and Beetee, and I will not allow myself to turn on them after what trust they have put on me. Well, Beetee's and Peeta's trust anyways. Katniss, well, she still looks wary of us.

I start hacking away at a tree, my back turned to Katniss, so easily exposed so that I let her know she has the upper hand. A sign that I am no threat to her or Peeta. I hack away at the tree, as if I were hacking away all of my 'what-ifs' and worries.

I ask her for the spile, when all of a sudden, she freezes and runs away.

"Prim! Prim!" She shouts, dashing away into the jungle, loud, fast, and completely vulnerable for attack.

I run after her, as fast as I can. There's no way I'm letting her get lost in this arena, to fend for herself against whatever's in here.

"Katniss!" I call out, trying to stop her, but to no avail. She keeps on running, screaming. Whatever it is, it's urgent enough for her to charge at full speed and move with the noise of stampeding elephants.

There are vines and trees everywhere. They swing into my face and slow me down, and soon, I can see nothing but Katniss' long braid.

When I finally reach Katniss, she's wiping moss on one of her arrows, the panic in her eyes gone.

"Katniss?" I pant out, stitches on my side from running after Katniss and running into vines instead. "Are you alright?"  
"Yeah." She answers, still wiping. "I just thought I heard – "

But I don't hear the rest of her sentence.

It's a scream. A scream, so horribly familiar and yet so horribly foreign to me because I've never heard her scream like that before.

It's loud and piercing, shattering every thought I had, breaking away any sense I had left. Any reason. Any logic. There is none, not when her safety is concerned.

I run. I sprint as fast as I can, screaming, too, a terrible harmony of my scream mixing in with hers.

"Donnie!" I scream. "Donnie!"

A thousand thoughts are running through my head, wild and frenzied. What if the Capitol just decided to take her now? What if they grabbed her out of our home and decided not to wait for her to be Reaped? What did the Capitol do? What were they going to do to her now? Is she in the arena? What is she doing here? _Is she alright?_

I run, not thinking about my legs screaming, begging for a rest, not thinking about my alliance behind me, Katniss running after me, Finnick waiting for me.

I can only think about what could be in front of me, the screams that are so clearly hers, that are so filled with pain and hurt that I would rather kill myself than to have something make her make that scream again.

I run for how long, I don't know. I don't care if there are other tributes around, other animals here. All I care about is reaching my little sister before the Capitol can raise another finger on her.

Not after all I did.

Not after all I gave up.

For Donnie. For Donnie. For Donnie.

Everything to protect her. I would do anything, would do everything.

Anything to keep her safe.

I finally reach the destination of her screams. It's in a tree – I just know she's up there. They're torturing her up there, and I can't reach her, can't even see her.

I can't climb up. The lowest branch is too tall for me to grasp on to.

I feel helpless. There's nothing I can do to help her without endangering her.

"Donnie!" I scream as loud as I can, wandering around the base of the tree. "Donnie!"

Her screams continue, piercing through me like an arrow to my heart. They go straight through me, ringing in my ears, echoing in my brain. Every scream leaves a scar on me, every second her screams continue is a reminder of what I've failed to do, of what they're doing to her now.

"Donnie!" I scream hysterically. I can feel tears beginning to form, feeling so helpless, so _weak _for not being to reach her when she is so close, suffering so much.

I try climbing the tree in vain. My nails are all bloodied and raw for grasping on to the wrong parts, but I don't feel the pain.

I don't even notice Katniss shimmering up the tree.

"Donnie!" I wail loudly, berating myself for being such a terrible sister, for being so weak, so useless, so stupid, so hopeless, so…

The screaming stops. A bird drops to my feet, dead. I recognize it as a jabberjay. Muttations from the Capitol that mimicked sounds.

"It's a trick, Anxol, it's alright. It's not really her." Katniss says, jumping off the last few feet of the tree.

But I don't feel any better. In fact, I think I feel worse.

"The jabberjays record the sounds they hear." I say shakily, staring at the mass of blood and feathers in front of me. "How do you think they got those screams?"

I see Katniss beginning to pale. "Anxol, you don't think they…"

I nod, confirming exactly what I think.

Suddenly, another scream starts up. It's a male voice, so full of pain. It's not one I recognize, but Katniss pales, eyes wide with fear and panic. Katniss whips around, and before she can run, I grab her and drag her back in the direction we came from – the beach.

"It's not him, Katniss!" I shout over the screams. "It's not him! It's just some monster!"

But Katniss is still trying to run. I drag her, like she's nothing but a sack of potatoes.

We finally reach the area, the clearing that I saw Katniss in. I see Johanna, Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta all standing just a little beyond the clearing. Katniss and I charge towards them, eager to leave the jabberjays and screams behind. It isn't until it's too late that I see Finnick's hands pressed against an invisible wall.

I crash into it face-first, whereas Katniss sort of crashed into me. We both fall back onto the floor, blood gushing from my nose. I see Finnick and Peeta trying to speak, but no words come out. We can't hear them. Johanna only stares at us while Beetee shakes his head.

More birds perch on a nearby tree, and open their mouths and start screaming.

Donnie's scream erupts from one of them, louder than the rest. They scream, loud and clear, so terrifyingly real even though I know they're birds.

But I still can't help but to think that someone has made Donnie scream like that. That at one time, Donnie was screaming like that, her voice filled with pain.

Katniss empties her quiver trying to shoot the birds, but every time one falls, another swoops in.

"Shut _up!_" I shriek, my hands in my ears, trying to block out the screams. "Shut _up!_"

In a fit of anger that Johanna would be proud of, I pull out a sword that I strapped to myself using a vine and start hacking away at a tree violently, as if every stab was a stab delivered personally to the Capitol.

The tree eventually collapses, taking the jabberjays down with it. For a minute it's silent – blissful, peaceful silence – until a new flock of jabberjays land in another tree.

I scream in anguish as Donnie's scream starts up again. Visions, images, run through my head, all equally horrific and terrifying. I cursed my imagination for being able to create these images. I cursed myself for not being able to protect Donnie in time.

I crumple down on the floor, my hands pressed so close to my ears I thought my brain would explode.

I curl up in a ball, close my eyes tightly, and wish that Donnie's screams would stop. Wish that my brain would stop thinking. Wish that I could stop wondering.

I wish that they had hurt me instead. I wish that they could've tortured _me _in this arena, wish they had some other muttation come after me.

But my wishes never come true. Donnie's voice keeps on ringing in my ears, haunting me, taunting me, mocking me. Reminding me of what she's going through. Of my failure. Breaking me.

I try to cling onto sanity, stop myself from falling into that dark hole of insanity and self-hate. But as the screams erupt all around me, it's getting easier and easier to just lose myself in the screams, let my sanity run free and leave me forever.

I almost wish it did.

**.**

Finnick's POV

I reach her first.

She's curled up, her hands pressed hard in her ears, body shaking, tears flowing.

I thought it was torturous _watching_ them; watching them scream in agony, watch them give up and just try to block out the screams.

But if I thought it was hard watching them, it was nothing compared to actually hearing the jabberjays.

I pick her up and gently remove her hands from her ears. Her fingers shake, hesitant, as if not believing it was really over.

Her eyes look at me fearfully, tears still clinging on to every eyelash.

I've seen her eyes misty and dreamy. I've seen them cold and filled with hatred. I've seen them joking and playful. I've even seen them with tears in them, sadness reflecting out of those expressive pale grey eyes.

But I've never seen them like this.

They're filled with hopelessness and emptiness, like two unfathomable, void holes.

She has never, ever, given up hope.

I hold on to her tightly, not caring about Haymitch's rule any more. Her breaths come out calmer and she's stopped shaking. She clings onto me like I'm her lifeline, and I can feel her nails digging into my chest.

"They're not real, they're just mutts." I whisper into her ears. "They're not real. It's not them."

She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath, but the tears do not stop.

"Finn, what if someone _did _torture her?" She asks in a small voice. "The jabberjays record voices. You know that."

I only hold her tighter and continue whispering words of reassurance in her ears. She relaxes slightly.

Peeta reminds them that the top eight tribute's families are interviewed, and with the top eight being so close, they couldn't hurt them now.

Beetee points out that there is a system in District 3 that is able to manipulate voices.

Slightly comforted, but still weak with terror, we managed to get Katniss and Anxol to stand up. Johanna returns back to the jabberjays to collect the fallen weapons.

We walk back to the camp, though Anxol and Katniss are still a little shaky.

We spend the day like it was a free day, each one of us doing different things, as long as we don't wander too far. A day of relaxation - or as close to it as we can get - to help calm Anxol and Katniss. We can't expect them to fight in this nervous condition.

First, I patch up Anxol's nose as she sits there, as still as a statue, staring off in the distance. Her eyes are distant, empty almost. It disturbs me, and I can't stand to watch as she turns into stone in front of me.

I try teaching Anxol how to weave a bowl and tie a net, even though it turns out pretty disastrous. She even manages a small, feeble laugh at her end result.

In the end, we go for a swim, just lazily floating around. She seems more relaxed, though I know that she still can't get the screams out of her head.

I suggest a swimming race even though we both fully know that I'll win. She agrees anyways, and she splashes in my face when I win again.

"You cheated." She smiles faintly, her voice slightly distant.

"How so?" I challenged.

"You're from 4." She counters back half-heartedly.

"That's not cheating." I respond, raising an eyebrow, a trick I learned from her.

"You have a swimming advantage over all of us." She smiles faintly again. I wish I could take away all of her distant smiles and replace them with her real smiles, the gleam in her eyes, the laughter on her lips.

But I can't.

And like a flash of lightening, Mag's voice returns to my memory, so achingly familiar.

_Love is something that is hard to hold on to in this world._

I look back at Anxol, eyes distant and troubled, a small frown on her lips. Is this what Mags means? The Capitol tears away all love in this world. Is this just the start of them pulling us away?

Mag's advice, her voice, her smile, is all too painful to remember. Her twitching body in the smoke, my inability to save her. I was weak. I couldn't save her, let her die.

I remember her teaching me how to swim. Giving me sugar cubes when I felt the world was bitter. She trained me during my own Games and held me when I cried in fear and held me when I sat in shock after I won.

And now she's gone. And it's my fault. I can feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and I turn away, to Anxol.

_Do you love her?_

Mags' voice haunting my head, echoing and reminding me so much of home. Anxol, breaking and troubled in front of me. There was nothing I can for her. There is nothing I can do for her.

I sit behind Anxol, biting my lips so hard I can taste blood. I will myself not to cry, force myself to; _you are the mighty Finnick Odair and they are all watching _and _you cannot be weak when she needs you, she does not need her wall to crumble when she needs it the most._

My fingers are not swift and deft like Mags'. They are clumsy and shaking, not at all skilled and flying from piece to piece like Mags' was. But I try anyways.

Anxol sits still, unmoving. I take strands of her long white-blonde hair and twist, turn, and braid it, the way I saw Mags do it so many times. When I am done, I look for a pin - no, a hook, Mags always used a hook - to fasten her hair, but I find none. Anxol turns slightly and gives me a faint, sad smile, holding out a small, crooked hook. It's not as sharp and fine as the ones Mags' used to make, but neither is my braid, and no one could make hooks and braids like Mags.

I fasten Anxol's hair tightly to the other side of her head and step back to see the handiwork. It's clumsy and uneven, but it resembles the braid Mags used to make for her.

Anxol pats the braid gingerly and turns to me, smiling faintly, her eyes finally here with us.

"Thank you." She whispers. I smile sadly and sit down next to her, slinging my arm over her shoulder. She leans her head on my shoulder, and I can hear her sighing softly.

We sit in silence, holding on to all we have left of Mags in this world.

**.**

That night, the seven faces light up in the sky.

"That's two-thirds of us." Anxol whispered, horrified that fifteen of us – including yesterday's eight – could be wiped out so easily.

"They're really going through us." Johanna says. "Who's left? Besides us and District 2?"

Peeta quickly points out the Chaff is still alive.

Suddenly, a parachute floats down. It's bread from District 3.

Finnick counts each one and lays it down neatly. There is twenty-four pieces.

We decide to eat some of it tonight and save the rest for tomorrow morning. Peeta and Katniss volunteer to take the first watch, obviously wanting time for themselves. Anxol and I volunteer for the second watch, and Katniss and Peeta agree to wake us up in a few hours.

Everybody falls asleep easily, sleeping soundly. Anxol crawls next to me and curls up next to me until there's no more space in between us.

I feign sleep as I wait for her to fall into an uneasy sleep, tears silently trickling through her closed eyelids.

She blames herself. I know she does. For her whole life, she has been protecting Donnie from the Capitol. From the Games. She killed and she sold herself for Donnie, and yet she thinks that even though she has done all these things, it is futile. That she is too weak, too useless to shield Donnie.

I gently move the white-blonde hair away from her face and sling my arm around her waist, holding her tightly, protectively.

I will protect her. I won't be able to live myself if I know I didn't.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Extra long chapter just to try and make up for the past few days!

I hope you guys all liked it - and yes, I know that some major parts in this chapter is different from the book Catching Fire, but keep in mind that I will be changing some things in future chapters and sub-stories to slip in Anxol and her story as well. And yes, I used some direct lines from the book and changed it up a bit - all of those, I repeat, belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Perspective change, yes, I know. I still don't know if you guys like the perspective changes or not, so, well - if you don't, then I'm sorry, and if you do, then that's great! I just wanted to get Finnick's point of view about the situation and more about how it affected Anxol.

So, what did you think of the chapter?

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? Feel free to leave it as a review!

And thank you so much for all the reviews and favorite and alerts on any of the sub-stories! It was really nice to come back to all these amazing messages. I'm really happy to be back and posting once again!

And now, as per usual, next chapter will be up tomorrow!


	11. Plan for the Best

Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!

Well, not to delay you any longer - here's the next chapter; I hope you guys enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games trilogy belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

Finnick's POV

The lightening wakes me up.

I feel Anxol flinch slightly in my arms, but she doesn't wake up. She's shaking again, her breathing uneven. I hush her quietly and pat her arm and hair until she stops shaking, though her breathing is still slightly uneven, still living in the nightmare.

Gently, I remove my arm and peel myself away from her. There was no going back to sleep now.

"One of you can go to sleep." I call over to Peeta and Katniss, who were still awake and on guard. "I can't sleep anyways."

Katniss protests feebly, but she crawls over to the rest of them to sleep. Peeta kisses her one last time before they separate. I wish I could do the same to Anxol.

I sit next to Peeta, trident in hand, watching the sleeping tributes behind me and the rustling coming from the jungle.

"Who did the jabberjays use for Anxol?" Peeta asks after a moment of silence.

"Her little sister, Donnie." I reply. There was no doubt about it. Anxol didn't have any other family, and the Capitol didn't know about us. For that, I was glad. How would she have reacted if she heard my voice with Donnie's?

The Capitol only thought we were 'sleeping acquaintances' – which means they thought we slept with each other whenever we were bored.

We did sleep with each other. But not like that. We are not sick like they are.

"You mean the one who ran up to her in the Reapings?" Peeta questions, blue eyes thoughtful.

I remember that. I was watching on the train even though I didn't want to watch the girl I loved get sent back into a death arena. Donnie ran right up to her and hugged her – and for a minute, Anxol wasn't Angel in front of the cameras – she was just Anxol.

The Anxol who would do anything for the ones she loved. The Anxol who was selfless, protective, and loving. The Anxol I knew. The Anxol I loved.

"That's the one." I answer. It's quiet again, except for the blood-rain that was starting up again.

"She looks a lot like Prim." Peeta comments. It was true, though there was a slight difference in some of their features.

"Yeah, she does." I smile thoughtfully.

"It was supposed to be her first year qualified for the Reapings." I added, remembering Anxol's panic, starting ever since the last Games. "Anxol was worried sick, wondering what'll the Games be this year if she was drawn."

"She's a brave one, that one." Peeta smiles, glancing over at Anxol's sleeping form.

Something twinges inside of me, remembering when I watched what Snow planned for the Quarter Quell. Tributes, Reaped from the existing victors. There was only one female victor in District 5 - Anxol.

_Promise me you'll take care of her? Promise me that you'll protect her? She doesn't remember, but I do. She can't know. They'll kill her, and you have to promise me that you won't let them. Promise me!_

And when I realized Anxol would be returning to the arena, I knew I had failed. It was beyond my control, but I had failed. I went back to the arena, not because Katniss was going in. I volunteered because Anxol was forced to go, and in my last moments I will protect her.

We fall into an easy silence, until Anxol finally stirs, awake. She yawns sleepily, and her eyes are slightly pink-tinged.

"I'll do a watch now." She yawns, stretching her limbs.

It's only been an hour since I started doing the watch, but I am exhausted. Peeta looks the same.

Peeta nods and falls asleep next to Katniss, and Anxol sits down next to me, her swords in her hands.

"You should get some sleep." She stares at me, eyes troubled. Distant, as if they could see Donnie suffering.

"I'm fine." I say half-convincingly.

"Would you go to sleep if I promise I won't stab you in the back as soon as you do?" She half-smiles at her joke.

"Nope." I grin. "If I had to die in the hands of anybody in this arena, it'd be you."  
"That's sweet." She says, rolling her eyes. "I'm honoured. Now go to sleep."

"I can't just let you do watch by yourself." I protest.

"I'm perfectly capable, Finnick Odair." Anxol playfully scowls. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll wake up Johanna."

I put my hands up in surrender, and before I can crawl back to the rest of the group, Anxol surprises me by giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

I smile at her, but she wakes up Johanna without looking at me, as if nothing happened.

I only smile some more, shake my head, and surrender to sleep.

**.**

Anxol's POV

When the rest of them wake up, there is another parachute, again containing twenty four pieces of bread. I took watch until the rest of them woke up, unable to go back to sleep again, for fear of seeing Donnie's form, writhing and frothing.

We eat our bread rolls, and Katniss teaches Peeta to swim. Johanna takes a nap, Beetee plays with the wires in his cylinder, and Finnick weaves another basket.

I examine Beetee's cylinder and wires. He stares at the water surrounding the arena.

I look at the water, too, then to the wires. The wires are commonly found in District 5, and District 3, too. I hear the splashing of water, and I turn to see Peeta furiously kicking his legs in the water, eyes twinkling. I look back to the cylinder.

The wires would be dangerous in the water, everybody knows that. But it's not truly lethal until…

"Oh my God." I stare at Beetee, eyes wide, piecing everything together. "Beetee… you don't think…"

Beetee nods at me, smiling. "I knew you'd be the first to figure it out."

Katniss calls Finnick over, claiming that she found a way to get rid of their scabs from the fog, and Finnick drops everything immediately and runs towards her. I almost laugh out loud at his vanity.

I wake Johanna up, and she grumbles crankily.

Finnick, Katniss, and Peeta all come back to the camp, where Beetee claims to have found a plan to kill Enobaria and Brutus.

He starts talking, telling us about the remaining tributes and the clock, but I can only grasp a few words. I think Donnie would understand what he was trying to say – better than the rest of us, anyways, according to everybody's slightly confused look.

If Donnie was still alive.

Beetee asks us where is the safest part of the whole arena.

The beach, of course. There is the seafood, water, and weapons.

"Why aren't they on the beach?" Beetee asks us.

"Because we're here." Johanna says impatiently, eyes tired but glaring.

Beetee asks us where we would go if we were them. We all say the outer rims of the jungle, and list out the reasons why. The jungle has food resources, and any other tributes could keep an eye on us.

"Yes, good. You do see. Now here's what I propose: a twelve o'clock strike. What happens exactly at  
noon and at midnight?" Beetee asks us, smiling.

"The lightning bolt hits the tree." Katniss answers.

"Yes. So what I'm suggesting is that after the bolt hits at noon, but before it hits at midnight, we run my wire from that tree all the way down into the saltwater, which is, of course, highly conductive. When the bolt strikes, the electricity will travel down the wire and into not only the water but also the surrounding beach, which will still be damp from the ten o'clock wave." Beetee explains. He looks at me, and everybody else does, too.

"Anything that comes into contact with either the beach or the water at that moment will be electrocuted." I finish, already seeing the damage in my mind.

Everybody is quiet, the words sinking in.

Electricity is something that I am friends with, and at the same time, enemies with. I have harnessed energy and used it to kill others. I have seen electricity kill my family.

Friend or foe. It can go both ways. I am confident in Beetee's plan, the same way I was confidant when I wrapped the same wires Beetee is holding around my sword in my first Games.

Everybody has questions, doubts. Beetee answers all of their questions and extinguishes their doubts. At best, it will kill Enobaria, Brutus, and if we're lucky, Chaff. At worst, it'll kill nobody and fry all of the seafood to the point of being inedible.

It's not that bad of consequences. We will be far away, in the jungle, too deep for the wire to electrocute us.

Katniss is in. Peeta is in. Johanna is in, with a hint of doubt. Finnick looks at me.

Electricity is unpredictable. I have studied it, and though I may seem to know everything I will ever need to know about it, it is still unpredictable. It has been a foe to me my whole life – killing everyone I had left. But it has been a friend to me once, saved my life. I hope it will be a friend to me now, but I am not too sure.

But I will take the risk.

"I'm in." I say.

"Me too." Finnick chimes.

Immediately, we pack up camp and leave the beach. Beetee says he wants to inspect the lightening-tree first. Johanna leads the pack first, swinging her axes to clear the way. Beetee still can't walk too far, so Finnick and Peeta take turns carrying him, normally behind Johanna. I trail behind whoever's carrying Beetee, watching out from the sides. Katniss takes the back, since her arrows do more damage than Johanna's axes or my swords.

Katniss finally brings up the front, after Finnick points out that she can hear the force field of the arena. I'm a little bit doubtful about that – isn't it impossible to hear the force field? – but I don't question her.

She leads, and we reach the large, almost unmistakeable lightening tree. We wait as Katniss tosses nuts into the air, using her ear to try and find the force field. Finally, she hits something.

We divide jobs. Finnick guards Beetee as he inspects the tree. I guard Johanna and Peeta as Johanna taps a tree for more water and Peeta gathers more nuts. Katniss hunts.

Beetee seems to take charge, sending Katniss up to check on the lightening after the wave passes. He fiddles with the wire and gives us an afternoon off.

We all head down to the beach to gather one last meal of seafood.

"Everybody in the water!" Finnick commands, taking his place as instructor-of-seafood-gathering.

Peeta and Katniss oblige, slipping into the water. I dawdle, taking my time. Johanna grumbles but gets into the water.

He then proceeds to teach us how to spear fish, gather shellfish, and dive for oysters. We take turns in the water, just in case a tribute decides to show up – though it is unlikely, we still take the precaution.

Before we eat, though, a parachute floats down. Twenty four more rolls of that District 3 bread and a small pot of spicy red sauce.

That night, we gorge ourselves until we can't eat any more. There are still leftovers, and we throw it back in the water. Everybody is tired and sleepy, and Finnick and I volunteer to take the first watch.

Everyone falls asleep easily, a task that was simple to do after eating so much. But Johanna is still awake, and she sits down next to us.

"Beetee said he'll try and break the force field with his wire." Johanna whispers to me so quietly I almost didn't catch it. I pass along the same message to Finnick, saying the phrase as quietly as possible.

"We need to split up." I state. "Peeta and Katniss."

They both know what I mean. We need to get the tracker that they injected into us out of Katniss, so when District 13 comes to get her, they won't be able to track her down. Beetee says he can break the force field. If it succeeds, Plutarch and Haymitch should be waiting to get Katniss and us out of there. But in order for the face of the rebellion to escape undetected, we need to get the tracker out of her. The thing is, it's _injected. _The only possible way is to either chop off her arm – which was not preferable – or to dig it out with a knife.

Both options require violence to Katniss, something Peeta will clearly not approve of.

We need to get them apart, and near the end of the Game, so that Katniss doesn't have time to go running back to Peeta with a bloody arm. We still need their trust – as little as they might have for us.

Johanna falls into slumber, and Finnick and I rouse Beetee up. We tell him about separating Katniss and Peeta – at least for a few minutes – and he nods. He tells us that he already knows the exact idea to separate them, and that we don't need to worry – he's got it all figured out.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Finnick asks me quietly.

"I hope so." I close my eyes and try not to think about what will happen if it doesn't. There is so little of us left, and if this doesn't work, then we will have to split up and face whatever the Capitol throws at us. That can't happen. We need to protect Katniss and Peeta.

I rest my head on Finnick's shoulder, glad that there is something steady to support me.

He wraps his arm around me, and for a second, it feels like everything is going to be okay.

I can only hope that this works.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Thank you all so much for all the brilliant reviews! They are all equally amazing and it really lets me know what you think about the chapters and questions that I may have for you readers. So just thank you so much!

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Next chapter up tomorrow!


	12. Final Moments

Thanks for clicking & hopefully reading!

This is the final chapter to this sub-story, but not to worry! There will be one more sub-story left to Anxol's story! More details can be found at the end of this chapter.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

At around nine at night, Finnick and I rouse everyone up. We start heading up to the lightening tree, going slower than usual due to our full stomachs.

At the tree, Beetee gets me to help him weave some intricate design on the trunk of the lightening tree. It's slightly familiar, though I haven't learned much about wire designs. I'm sure Donnie would know about it.

Donnie, who must be at this moment, at the edge of her seat, waiting to see what I will do next. Whether or not I will live or die. Whether or not I can kill, knowing she is watching. Can I let my baby sister see me take another human life, or can I leave her all alone? I can either kill all her hopes for a good older sister or leave her to live her life with no one to support her. I can't decide which is best for her. Will she be safe in this rebellion? Will she live to tell?

My worry almost eats me up, and I fumble with the wire a few times. We hear the ten-o-clock wave crash onto the beach. It isn't until half an hour later that Beetee and I finish and he reveals his plan.

"Katniss and Johanna must carry the wire and unwind it as you go down the beach." Beetee instructs. "One will guard while the other unwinds."

The two of them only look doubtful.

"Then, you must drop the cylinder and whatever wire is left into the water. Make sure it sinks." Beetee continues, oblivious to our doubts.

"You must return back to the jungle as quick as possible. If you go now, you will be able to make it in time." Beetee warns.

Johanna and Katniss don't look too happy to be partnered up together.

"I want to go with them as guard." Peeta says immediately.

"You're too slow. Besides, I'll need you on this end. Katniss will guard," says Beetee. "There's no time to debate this. I'm sorry. If the girls are to get out of there alive, they need to move now." He hands the coil to Johanna.

Johanna accepts it, and Beetee spills out some last minute instructions.

Before they leave, I catch Johanna's eyes. She gives me a small nod, letting me know that she knows this may be the only moment Katniss and Peeta will be far from each other. If anything is to happen, she will have to remove the tracker.

"Anxol, may you please help me with the wires?" Beetee asks.

I nod and get up, and head towards Beetee. Beetee doesn't really need help – that I already know. But since Finnick and Peeta have no idea what the wires are supposed to do, we can fake work.

As I fiddle around with one of the wires harmlessly, Beetee signals Finnick to distract Peeta. It's a single point with the head towards Peeta's direction, and Finnick immediately gets the signal. He crosses over and reassures Peeta, who was still worried for Katniss.

"Listen." Beetee whispers quietly. "I need you to cut the wire. Not too far from here, but far enough so that Peeta can't see."

I nod, though I don't know why he wants me to do this job.

Beetee nods discreetly to the force field, and then to his knife. He needs the wire to be attached to his knife, and then when the lightening hits, he can stab his knife into the force field and break it open.

Genius.

"Anxol, I'm afraid the wire might have tangled. Can you please check on it?" Beetee asks in his normal voice a few minutes later, a worried look on his face. I would have thought it was genuine if I didn't

I nod, and pass by Peeta and Finnick. Peeta looks worried, while Finnick looks mildly suspicious. He knows something is up. His eyes never leave me, and I try and look casual, or at least, not guilty.

I walk briskly, until they are gone from sight. Then I run, treading softly, until I am sure I am far enough away from Peeta. I bring down my sword and easily slice the wire. I hope Beetee knows what he's doing.

I hear a slight crash. Behind me are slight footsteps, only slightly muted by the jungle floor. I know the crash is Johanna, probably trying to get the tracker out of Katniss. The footsteps must belong to the Careers - loud, heavy, and trying to be disguised. Brutus. He was never one for subtlety.

I have to warn Johanna and Katniss. The Careers are planning another ambush.

I bound quickly and quietly, following the broke trail of the wire. In seconds, I see Johanna on top of Katniss, blood gushing out of Katniss' arm like a broken dam.

Maybe she was just a little too extreme.

"Johanna!" I hiss. "Careers!"

I pull Johanna away from Katniss and duck into the trees. We had to lead the Careers away from Katniss, who might finish her off.

Johanna and I run, deep into the forest, making sure to be loud, drawing the Career's attention away from the bleeding Katniss.

At first, there's nothing but silence behind us. But then comes a stomping footfall, no longer disguising its appearance. Angry stomps, hurried breaths, adrenaline fuelling him on; the prospect of killing us is what is making him move. Brutus.

"Duck!" Johanna screams, and I quickly oblige. I hear the familiar _whoosh_ of a weapon above me, just missing my head.

We turn around to see Brutus, holding a spear and a knife, panting, but with a crazed satisfaction in his eyes. He likes this game too much.

He swipes at us in a flash, stabbing to kill. Johanna and I duck and roll away.

I toss Johanna one of my swords, and she catches it easily. It's not an axe, but it's better than being unarmed.

Both of us armed, Johanna and I work together to try and kill Brutus, but he's twice as big as we are, though not as fast, he's much stronger.

It's a dance – dodging, killing, dodging. But it's a repetitive one, and the clock is ticking – we have to get back to Peeta and Katniss. We have to help Beetee break the force field.

He finally manages to slash Johanna on the leg, and she roars out in pain.

He moves in quickly for the kill, and while his back is to me, I seize my chance.

I stab him, pushing my sword as deep as it will go. He goes limp, and his cannon rings. His own blind obsession of killing is what lead him to his death. He sees prey and he forgets everything else.

He falls to the floor, and I pull my sword out of his body, the blade coated in red.

"Are you okay?" I pant, extending a hand to Johanna.

She nods, eyes closed in pain. She holds her leg tightly. It's not too deep of a wound, but blood is still gushing out of it.

I grab some of the soaking moss that Katniss uses and press it tightly on her leg.

"Go." She commands, wincing slightly. "Get to Peeta before someone kills him."

She hands me my other sword and holds on to the knife Brutus dropped, his eyes unseeing but still mad in death.

"Are you sure?" I ask, concerned.

"Just go!" She growls. "I'll be fine. You made a promise."

I nod and leave somewhat reluctantly, not quite willing to leave Johanna on her own, injured.

Then again, it's not like Johanna can't defend herself. The cannon must have alerted Finnick and Peeta to action, leaving Beetee at the lightening tree. If Finnick is taking down Enobaria right now, and Peeta bringing Katniss to the safety of the lightening tree, everything will be perfect. All I have to do is eliminate Chaff.

I stand as still as I can, listening for any sounds of movement. Chaff has got to be here. We're all practically in one place, and he's not going to just sit back and wait for us to kill each other.

Just by four years of mentoring, I know that Chaff will fight. He will want to kill.

My ears prick as I detect a sound. It's a rustling, obviously human. I creep silently towards the source of the noise.

It's Peeta and Chaff.

So much for my perfect wish.

Chaff is running towards Peeta, and I am still unseen.

With a simple flick of my wrist, my sword is in the air and heading straight towards Chaff's heart.

But he hears the unmistakable _whoosh, _and he dodges it just in time.

I sneak quietly to the side, both tributes still in my view.

But before either one of them can attack – try to attack me or attack each other – I barrel out of the shadows at crash straight into Chaff.

He falls over, taken by surprise. But he is still quick, his sense heightened and his reflexes quick. He grabs my right arm and twists it painfully. I let out a cry of pain. I can feel the skin moving, the bone twisting unnaturally, my arm screaming out, and my voice accompanying it.

He is using his one arm, somehow pinning me down, twisting my arm off at the same time. His finger leaves bruises on my skin, and his weight is holding me down. His feet are also pinning Peeta down, what I manage to see out of the blurry dots in my vision.

Peeta somehow manages to squirm out of Chaff's foot-grip while he gives my arm a particularly nasty twist. Peeta quickly seizes his chance and stabs Chaff. His cannon goes off.

Before I can even stand up, Peeta's knife is to my throat.

"Whose cannon was it?" He asks, his breath ragged, eyes panicked but hard. It no longer holds the trace of the boy who would smile faintly at me and Finnick. It is all about Katniss' safety now, and if I am in the way of it, then he will kill me without any hesitation.

"Brutus'. I swear." I answer, both hands lifted up in surrender, though my right arm was screaming in protest . The bone is twisted unnaturally, the socket disfigured. My swords drop to my side.

"The Careers cut the wire." I lie. "I saw them while I was checking for tangles. They were heading for Katniss and Johanna."

Peeta nods for me to continue, eyes still hard.

"I warned them and we ran, but we ran in different directions when the Careers arrived. Brutus chased after me and Johanna. We killed him." I explained quickly, the cold blade of Peeta's knife still pressed to my throat.

I can just imagine what had happened up at the tree. Beetee must've told them that the wire was cut. Peeta and Finnick must've rushed to find us, but Peeta's leg slowed him down. Finnick didn't find us, but might've found Enobaria. It's possible. If Enobaria had tried to kill Katniss, there would've been another cannon a long time ago. Katniss lost too much blood to kill Enobaria on her own.

The blade leaves my throat.

"I should kill you now." Peeta stares at the knife, then to me, contemplating. "The alliance is over anyways."

Before he can continue, a cry pierces through the air.

"Peeta!" Katniss' voice screams out. "Peeta!"  
"Katniss!" He booms back, already forgotten about me. He's wandering towards the direction of her voice. Her safety is his first priority. Little does he know that she is our first priority, too.

"Katniss!" He yells out again. I pick up my swords again and quietly follow him.

We don't get far.

It isn't long until the ground shakes, dirt and earth flying everywhere, the trees bursting into flames.

The force of whatever just happened pushes Peeta and I back, crashing us into the trees. Explosions start, showering the arena in red, yellow, and orange.

Peeta and I try to run, run away from the flames that threaten to envelop us, but both of our bodies are paralyzed, blood running down every part of us. We scrabble uselessly at the ground, trying to get away.

It's hell here. I don't know what the Capitol is planning, whether they even planned on having a victor for these Games. For all I know, they're only making our deaths as bright and spectacular as a final show for all of the Capitol, like a cruel good-bye to us.

Or maybe Plutarch and Haymitch will save us. By the explosions and whatever the hell is happening right now, the force field could have been broken. Beetee might have succeeded. A hovercraft could appear right now, pick us up, and take us to District 13, to the rebellion.

I hope it does.

And like a wish come true, a figure blocks out the sky.

A hovercraft.

It has come to save us.

* * *

Thanks for reading!

Well, as you all hopefully know, this is the final chapter to this sub-story. Don't worry - there is still one more sub-story left! The first chapter of the next sub-story will be posted up tomorrow, and it will be called 'Broken Wings'.

Terrible title, I know. I kind of made it up on the spot, but, well, points for trying, eh?

As for this chapter, I'm sorry if Beetee's plan was quite off. I'm pretty sure that what was depicted in this chapter was probably not what he had originally planned - but in all honesty, my mind is much to lazy now to wrap itself around Beetee's genius, so I'm just going to leave it as it is. So sorry about that if it bugs you that some of the genius/planning/mind game factor of the story was off. I really cannot for my life figure it out now.

So yes, I know that this was the shortest sub-story, and I'm sorry for that. The time spent in the arena was quite short in Catching Fire and I didn't want to drag out the beginning too much, so the amount of chapters was reduced. The next sub-story will definitely have more chapters; I think. Probably.

Well, thank you SO MUCH for reading this far! And an incredible, incredible thanks for all the reviews on this story - especially Sweet Corruption, who has managed to review on every single chapter! Thank you so much to all who have read, reviewed, or put the story as an alert or a favourite - it really means a lot to me.

Next sub-story up tomorrow!


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